A Girl Is Arya Stark
by MmmNoodleSoup
Summary: Set after the events of season 6 episode 7. Arya is found fighting for her life by a very familiar face. She must regain her health in order to fight her own inner demons, and the demons sent to kill her. rated for language & major lemony goodness enjoy :) started life as a one-shot
1. Chapter 1

"No…. I can't….die." Arya stumbled between bustling bodies and pushed her way through the marketplace, all the while clutching at her stomach. The feeling of her own blood pulsing through her fingers unsettled her. _I can't die… not now. I can't be killed by a vengeful little girl after everything I have survived._ Her mind was beginning to waver; she was unsure if the words were of her own head or if she were speaking them aloud. _This isn't it! If this is death, its shit!_

Her cloth shoes slapped against cold brick with every step. After emerging from the water she had fought against the mind-numbing pain and just barely managed to push herself to her feet, she certainly wasn't going to give in now and let her heavy body drag her back to the floor. Every shuffle was sapping great amounts of her strength and at each corner she passed she felt herself slip a little more into unconsciousness but she kept on walking, aware that if she were to be knocked off her feet she may never get up again. The Braavosi people didn't care. This wasn't the first time an injured - or just plain mad - person had gone tumbling through the streets. It didn't happen often but it wasn't unheard of. Arya was just one of a number.

Old crinkly men and young beautiful whores alike watched her as she passed, dripping wet and covered in blood. Nobody stopped; nobody helped. Arya's gaze flitted from one face to the next, pleading with her eyes that someone take pity on her. She had never wanted her father so badly. After everything these past years had brought her, even trying to forget herself, she had never forgotten him. She jerked around the corner of a large brown stone building into an almost deserted alley way. An open gate to her left caught her eye. The light pouring from it was like a beacon to her; a warmth she hadn't felt since leaving Winterfell years previously. She stumbled forward, her knees weakening. Her fingers barely brushed the gateway before she gave in, crumbling to the floor in a tangled heap of long limbs. _Fuck…_

She thought of her father. She stared at that strange glow leaking from the gateway and thought of him. Of all of them.

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 _Wailing could be heard over the hills surrounding Winterfell. The snow atop them shuddered and unsettled as Arya Stark screamed herself silly from the centre of the courtyard._

" _Arya, stop it! A lady shouldn't make such a fuss!" Sansa, her feather-headed sister yelled at her, glaring over the fence that surrounded the sparring pitch. Sansa was young, around eight years of age, but her flaming hair was well past the small of her back and her neck was already abnormally long. In fact, her whole body was abnormally long. She stood only an inch below their eldest brother Robb who was nearing thirteen years and had long since started growing into a young man._

" _Sansa, leave her be. I think she's really hurt this time." Robb called back, guilt lacing his voice. "Arya! Shut up for a minute will you!" He had to shout to be heard over Arya's screeching. Usually she wouldn't have made such a scene but her brothers had ganged up on her and, despite her small size, she hadn't managed to fully dart out of the way when Robb had hit her in the leg with a wooden training sword. Not only had she been hit hard, she had been tripped too and had managed to fall backwards over a pile of hay stacks into the wooden rack that housed the blunt axes._

 _Arya began to quieten down, slowing to small sobs but with tears still streaming down her face. She looked down at her wrist and noticed the strange way it was bent, however it was the burning coming from her thigh that was causing her to scream Winterfell to the ground. Jon came and knelt beside her, smoothing her hair away from her face and glancing at her arm with concern. "I think it could be broken." He said, touching her fingers gently causing her to whimper slightly in pain._

" _No." She managed. "My leg, Jon. Its burning!" Arya began to cry all over again as Jon's eyes widened and he gestured for Robb to join him. Robb took one look at Arya's trousers caked in blood and ran for the castle entrance, shouting for help along the way. Jon tried to move Arya, to lift her into an easier position but as soon as he laid a hand on her leg she yelped and he had to back off again._

" _Arya!" Her mother chose this moment to come scurrying from the God's Wood, Bran sticking close to her side and baby Rickon strapped to her chest in swaddles. She had birthed him just two weeks past and had spent every day since thanking the Gods for yet another son. "What in god's name happened?" She stopped at the fence nearest Arya, not wanting to bring her youngest children into the sparring pitch._

" _She wanted to train with us, but Robb said no. When she insisted he bet his puddings for a week that she wouldn't last five minutes against the two of us. She was doing well, then Robb tripped her by accident with his sword and she tumbled into the racks. She went down quite hard on her wrist but it's her leg that got the most damage I think." Catelyn showed no indication that she had heard Jon speak other than to frown and turn her head away from him._

" _You silly little girl. How many times do I have to tell you! Fist fighting and sparring are not activities a young lady like yourself should be attending. It's no wonder you got hurt! These sports are for men, Arya. You are most certainly not a man!"_

 _Arya glared up at her mother, her tears drying up on her face with the heat her anger brought her despite the pain that was still lancing through her upper thigh. "I don't want to be a Lady!" She screamed back at her mother in fury. "It's not fair that Robb and Jon get to do all the exciting things while all I can do is practice needlework and dress-making with Sansa and Jeyne Pool!" She yelled into her mother's face, making her pull back in astonishment._

" _Now then!" A deep voice boomed over all their heads. "What is going on here?" Her father opened the gate into the sparring ring and approached Arya gently, wary that he too might get a tongue lashing._

" _She was yelling, father!" Sansa tattled. "Yelling right in mother's face."_

" _Sansa, that's enough. I think Jeyne was looking for you, maybe you should take your leave." Ned gave Sansa a pointed look that showed he in no way meant that as a suggestion. "Cat, go with her. Take the boys back inside it's much too cold out here for a babe." Catelyn took one lingering glance at her husband, clearly unhappy, but nonetheless pulled Bran by the hand back towards the castle._

 _He looked down at his youngest daughter, wounded and steaming with rage, and sighed. "You like to keep things interesting don't you girl?" He grinned at her, and she couldn't help but crack a small smile back at him._

 _Ned ever so carefully lifted Arya from the floor, being sure not to jostle her leg nor the large piece of splintered wood protruding from it. She winced and grumbled but let her father carry her to Maester Luwin's chambers. Once there, he held her hand and whispered stories to her about how his sister was the one who taught him and his younger brother to spar. He told her of the time her Aunt Lyanna got so frustrated with him for messing up a particular blocking technique persistently that she knocked him round the shins with her sword every time he failed until he finally got it right. Ned knew his daughter enjoyed hearing tales of his elder sister. Arya reminded him so much of how Lyanna was at a young age._

 _Arya was almost fully distracted by her father's words, and the stories of her Aunt. Maester Luwin managed to remove the wood fully and sew up her wound without much resistance from Arya at all, though he suspected she may have been slightly delirious from the pain. After having her hand set into a splint to help her broken wrist heal properly, she was given milk of the poppy and told that she had to rest for a few weeks before she could use either limb again. Her father once again scooped her small frame up into his arms and carried her to her bed chambers. She hadn't made it through the door before she was fast asleep, drained from the afternoons events. Ned placed his little girl in her bed and tucked her covers around her. Her toes barely reached half way down the mattress, as small as she was._ Trust it to be Arya that challenges two boys, both more than twice her age, to a duel… for puddings. _He thought with a chuckle._

" _How is she doing?" Robb poked his head through the doorway._

" _She'll live. But she won't be sparring for a few weeks so you and Jon can relax." He told his eldest, chuckling again as he noticed the pale skin of Robb's face turn a peculiar shade of green._

 _Ned ushered his son from the room and gently closed the heavy door behind him. He glanced and noticed a thoughtful frown grace the boy's face. When he asked, Robb only said, "I just realised I won't get any pudding tonight… she lasted longer than five minutes."_

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"Arya…."

 _That voice,_ she thought. _I know it._

Arya drifted back under the dark ocean of unconsciousness before she could think about it any further.

She did this for a while, or at least she thought she did, drifting back and forth between the real world and her memories. She was beginning to become confused, unable to tell the difference.

DING!

She felt herself being carried by a strong wide set of arms but she was unaware if they were her father's, carrying her to bed, or if they belonged to someone else.

DING!

She felt her clothes being shuffled and moved about but she didn't know if it was her mother changing her out of sweat-soaked night clothes when she had a terrible fever one winter or if someone else was the one dressing her.

DING!

At her most cognitive, when she drifted more towards the land of the living, she saw splashes of dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She heard her name being whispered over and over, and felt hands pressing her wrists and pushing back her hair. She had moments where she was shaking uncontrollably and others where she was so still she may as well be dead. Throughout it all though, she had a constant heat about her. She was always incredibly hot and it confused her in her foggy state of mind.

DING!

One thing she did know, very clearly, was that whoever was making that infernal dinging sound was going to feel the last of her strength if they didn't stop!

DING!

Arya huffed and grumbled, finally opening her eyes. The room she was laying in was small and dark and insanely hot. She was laid on a bed stuffed into the corner, covered with layers of blankets. Feeling extremely uncomfortable in the stifling heat, she began to swing her legs out from under the covers only to freeze in pain.

Then she remembered. The Waif.

She looked down at her abdomen and noticed only briefly that her clothes had been changed. She was no longer blood stained and her hands were clean instead of dripping red. A quick glance under her very large shirt confirmed that she had been bandaged rather well.

DING!

Growling under her breath again, Arya moved her feet to the floor more gently this time, taking care not to strain herself. She began to shuffle towards a curtain that covered the entrance to the room. Shuffling was good. Shuffling didn't feel nearly as bad as sitting up.

She heard the clatter of metal hitting metal and realised there was a familiar glow seeping through the edges of the curtain. It was hot. Way too hot, even for Bravos.

When she entered the next room she realised where the stifling heat was coming from. She was inside a blacksmith's shop. She wasn't alone.

The first thing she saw was a mop of dark hair, dripping with sweat. Then a thick neck followed by a very wide set of shoulders, glistening in the light from the forge. Droplets ran down a tanned back, muscles rippling under the surface as strong arms teased and tortured a red hot strip of metal into an intricate design.

 _Oh my,_ she thought.

That was when he whipped round, the light behind him making his face fall into the shadows.

Maybe that last thought hadn't stayed in her head where she had meant it to.

"Arya." He said her name.

If she wasn't so perplexed as to how this tall, dark stranger knew her name she might have begun to admire the frontal view just as she had his back.

"How do you know me?" She asked, pulling herself up to her full height, which undoubtedly wasn't much, and pulling her eyes away from the large expanse of male chest he had revealed when he turned. She was trying to focus on his face but the light from the forge lit him up from behind well, masking his identity. And plus… the chest….

"Sorry, do you still go by 'Arry'?" He asked, mirth straining his voice.

She gasped, "What?"

"Although you don't look half as much like a boy as you did when I last saw you. You've grown your hair out. I like it; it looks good on you." His voice rattled deeper than she had heard last, but she finally recognised it.

"Gendry?"

He stepped out of the light, circling around her to put his heavy gloves on the workbench on her right. It was him. He had grown, now a man, but it was definitely him. She would notice those eyes anywhere. They always were the first thing you saw on him; a startling blue as deep as the narrow sea. Still a blacksmith in trade, his physique had bulked out enough to rival The Mountain, and he had grown in his years to be a good foot or two taller than when she last saw him. Whereas she was smaller than him before, she was now dwarfed in his presence. His skin was tanned, but still paler than most here in Bravos, and his raven black hair flopped over his forehead, slick with sweat.

He was watching her. He hadn't taken his eyes off her. Then she realised he was only watching her because she was staring straight back at him, rather brazenly.

"How did you find me?" she questioned, dropping her eyes to the floor and shuffling further into the room.

"I didn't. You found me." When she glanced at him in confusion, he went on. "I was working in here for most of the day and the heat was getting a bit unbearable so I decided to step outside for a bit and there you were; laid on the cobbles, bleeding to death. Would you like to tell me how you came to be in that state?"

She watched him as he perched on a wooden stool next to the bench, his legs crossed at the ankles and his muscular arms folded over his chest.

"Not really." She muttered, jutting out her chin in defiance. She suddenly felt like a kid again, trying to stand up to Gendry as he teased her on her height or questioned her on whether anyone had bothered her.

"Arry, please. It's me. You know me, you can tell me anything. Are you in trouble? Have you been found? I assume you are still running from Lannister men?" He threw his arms out wide in exasperation when she didn't answer his questions. She almost wanted to step into them to give his long limbs something to do instead of flop there by his sides.

"It's nothing like that. They must think I'm long dead by now."

"Then what is it like?"

She pursed her lips and looked away from him again. After a few minutes she heard him sigh, and stand from his stool. He picked up his thick gloves again and started hammering a strip of metal pulled freshly from the fire.

"You should get some more rest. That wound is still a long way from being healed and you are going to need all the strength you can get."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching in the middle and her forehead wrinkling up.

"That was done by someone who clearly has a grudge." He said, gesturing to her abdomen with the hot metal. "You may not want to tell me what happened but your wounds say enough. I was the one who treated you. I can tell that whoever did it wanted you dead; which you are not. You need your strength if you are going to have to fight against them."

Arya paled and heaved a heavy sigh, wincing when her bandages shuffled against her wounds. She folded her arms over her chest and her shoulders slumped. _I'm feeling so tired all of a sudden,_ she thought. _Maybe he's right, I should sleep._

Gendry watched her shrink into herself and it almost broke his heart. The young girl he once saw battle grown men twice her size had gone, replaced by a young woman who was shaken to her core. This attack must have been a huge shock to her system for her to be acting like this. This was not the Arya he had known years ago.

She watched Gendry approach her slowly like she was a frail doe that might bolt at any moment. She gritted her teeth and tried not to flinch as his hand stretched out to her. It was only when his warm palm touched her upper arm in comfort she finally relaxed, letting her limbs soften and the exhaustion take her. Arya realised just how weak she was when her knees began to buckle and she had no strength left in her to pin herself upright. It was lucky Gendry was standing so close or she would have fallen to the floor in a heap.

He swept her legs up carefully and cradled her in his arms, watching as her eyes began to slide shut. She was cold against his chest, or maybe he was just too warm from working in front of the forge all day.

Pushing back the curtain to his own room, he ducked through the doorway and lumbered the few steps to his bed. He must have jostled her as he tried to lay her down because her eyes fluttered open again.

"Gendry," she murmured. "I forgot to say thank you."

"You're thanking me? Well, you must be more ill than I thought." He teased.

She glared and tried to punch him in the stomach but it felt to him like a feather touch.

"That's more like it." He chuckled.

Arya managed a small grin, and swiftly fell back to sleep. He pulled the blankets back up over her small body, knowing it was best to keep her too warm in case she had an infection so she could sweat it out before it took her. He began to exit the room, turning before he shut the curtain to watch her for a second longer than he should have.

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Arya was still sleeping the next morning when Gendry checked on her. He had slept on the floor of the shop just the other side of the curtain instead of in the wooden chair in the corner of his room, like he had the last few nights, in case she had woken during the night and protested. He had a broken and uncomfortable sleep that wasn't solely the blame of the hard stone floor that was his bed. Arya talked in her sleep. He had poked his head round the corner of the doorway multiple times during the night because he feared she had sprung an intense fever but found that she was just turning in the bed sheets and talking to herself. She was sweating but her pallor was warm and rosy, not sickly and green like it would be if she were ill. She was healing well enough but her wounds were deep and jagged and he feared that if she began to thrash in her sleep, he may have to pin her down so she didn't open up his stitching. That wouldn't be easy to explain if she woke.

Arya mainly mumbled about her family. She called for her father a lot, and said her elder brother Jon's name just as much. Once or twice she yelled for Sansa but those times it sounded as though she were arguing or just plain annoyed. She constantly moved in her sleep too. She turned like a hog on a spit roast all through the night. When morning came Gendry found her on her front with the covers only half covering her body and his old shirt almost around her neck.

He flipped her over gently to check on her wounds and found she had bled through her bandages. Sighing, he tugged her clothing straight, and folded it just above her abdomen, below her chest. He reached under the bed to pull out a large chest full of herbs and medicines and various supplies he kept good stock of. Gendry freed her from her bandaging and inspected the wound. She hadn't broken any of the stitching, but her constant movement had made some of the clotting blood crack. He simply cleaned up the skin around her wounds, and put fresh strips of cloth that had been pre-soaked in a potent alcohol and left to dry over her stomach to act as a barrier between her wounds and the new bandaging. He had her fully re-wrapped and tucked back under the bed covers in little time, and without waking her in the slightest.

DING!

It wasn't until nearly sunset that Arya finally stirred, feeling well rested yet extremely stiff.

DING!

That infernal dinging again! She swung her legs over the side of the bed and realised that it hadn't hurt as much as last time. Taking that as a good sign, she rose to her feet with only slight discomfort and padded into the next room.

Yet again she found Gendry with his back to her, hammering away at the anvil. That's where that sound was coming from!

"Do you know how annoying that is?" She yelled over the sound of metal hitting metal.

He swung round with hammer in hand, startled to see her awake again so soon. He had expected to be waiting a few more days before she left his bed once more.

"Sorry." He answered, realising he was still brandishing the tool at her.

Arya saw that this time he was wearing a vest over his broad skin. _Maybe he noticed me looking before,_ she thought.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a thunderous growling sound filling the shop. Her stomach! How long was it since her last meal? Two days? Three?

He gestured her towards a small wooden table and stool in a pokey corner of the room that was divided from the forge by a screen. "Eat. It's still warm, I promise you."

Arya took one look at the pot of stew and loaf of bread and forgot herself. She all but ran to the table, pouring a large helping into a bowl and ripping off a huge chunk of bread. Her mother's training in Lady-ship long forgotten; she drank the broth straight from the bowl, only using a spoon for stuffing the wedges of meat and vegetables into her mouth. It was the best stew she had ever tasted.

She looked to find Gendry watching her with a small smile playing on his lips. Suddenly she remembered her manners. She put the bowl down and chewed on a corner of bread. His smile dropped and he pulled the stool from by his bench to the table and plopped down onto it. He re-filled her bowl and pulled her another chunk of bread from the loaf, then nodded at the food and sat back, crossing his arms. She assumed that was male gesturing for 'eat more'.

"Did you make this?" she asked, out of courtesy. He replied with a small nod of his head. "It's delicious. I didn't know you could cook."

"It's something I picked up along the way. I had to find some way to feed myself."

She emptied her third bowl full and finished the loaf of bread, then declined when he offered the pot to her again.

"How long have I been asleep? I can't remember ever being that hungry in my life!"

"A little over a week. You had been unconscious for about six days before you woke up last; then slept for almost another two. I managed to keep giving you water and sloppy soup in your slightly more awake moments but you barely opened your eyes let alone acknowledged me. I'm lucky you didn't choke but I had to get something in you or you might have died, the state you were in." He gave her a disapproving look and clasped his hands together on the table. He seemed like he might shake her vigorously, if she wasn't injured, for being so senseless.

"Thank you, by the way. I bet I looked a picture when you found me." She raised her eyebrows and chuckled darkly.

"I told you, I didn't find you. You found me."

"Still, thank you. I was sure I was going to die. I owe you my life."

"We'll call it even. If it wasn't for you getting me out of Harrenhal all those years ago I doubt I would be sat here now. So really, you saved your own life."

"Well, thank you to Me then." Arya tittered under her breath, smiling. It seemed like such a long time ago, her stint in Harrenhal. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember the last time she had smiled either.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, standing to tidy away the table. He carried the huge pot, still almost full of remaining stew, to a wooden unit nearby and lidded it. She followed close by with her bowl and spoon, washing it quickly in a large bucket of clean water and standing it out on the unit to dry.

"Better. I have a lot less pain than I did two days ago."

"In that case would you like to take a walk?"

Arya glanced up at him in alarm and began shuffling her feet nervously. "I'm not sure that's wise."

Gendry watched her, seeing her suddenly at war with herself. She was clearly concerned that she might be found by her attacker.

He grasped her upper arms gently, "I'm going three buildings down, to the Children's Home. There is still some light left, and I will be there. Nobody will hurt you while I am there."

She heaved a sigh and nodded tentatively, deciding it best to get out of this impossibly hot room for a few minutes.

He gave her a large cloth jacket to cover her large cloth shirt then picked two wrapped packages from a cupboard and handed them to her. They smelled of fresh bread he must have purchased only today. Heaving the pot down from the unit, he took her free hand and pulled her through the side gate of his smithy. She noticed as they walked through the familiar alley that there wasn't a spot of blood. She remembered the amount that she had lost and wondered if it had been washed away by an unlikely downpour or if Gendry himself had come out to clean it all up.

She looked from one side of the narrow street to the other on their walk, but still noticed no blood. She was sure she must have left something behind. The clothes she was wearing now were clearly not her own, but she remember the feeling of wet fabric stuck to her stomach as she stumbled through the town. Where was the blood now?

"Has it rained?" She asked Gendry as they passed a large white building, mirrored by a small black one that sat next in the row.

"No, why?" His face crumpled in confusion.

Arya gestured to the street, "I came through this street; I know it. Yet there isn't a drop of blood anywhere. I wondered if the rain had washed it away. The alley next to the forge is clear too." Gendry looked anywhere but her as they neared a pale grey building with a sign over the door. This must be the Children's Home.

She tugged his hand back before he could enter and turned him around to her. He glanced at her fleetingly. She gasped, "You did it." Her eyes widened, and she looked at him in a new light. He had washed away her blood. He had erased the trail, making sure nobody would be able to follow it and find her. "You cleaned the street to make sure I wouldn't be found."

He peered down at her with fire behind his eyes. "I told you; while you are with me nobody can hurt you. While you are with me, you're safe."

Forgetting the bread under her arm, she stretched up on her toes and ignored the prickly feeling in her stomach as she pulled her wounds. She had to wrap her free arm around his neck and pull his head down to her shoulder to embrace him. If Gendry was shocked, he didn't show it. He managed to enclose his arm around her waist and hug her back willingly. They stood like that, holding on to each other for a while; long enough for an old woman passing by to tut at them.

When she finally let him go, Arya stepped back tentatively. He looked to her with a smile and grasped her hand again, pulling her through the doorway. She couldn't hold on to him for long, however, because as soon as they passed the threshold he was bombarded by tiny bodies. He had a child at each leg and ten more surrounding him craving his attention. He laughed and patted each one on the head briefly before shouting over the top of them, "If you all keep pulling my legs I'm going to drop you're dinner!"

She laughed quietly as they all scrambled away from him to a long table with benches on either side. He gestured for her to follow and she kept at his heels, bringing the bread to the table now full with children ranging from those barely able to walk to some almost her own age.

"Everyone, this is Arry." Gendry told the table. He began spooning scoop after scoop of the delicious stew into bowls. Arya followed suit and unwrapped the bread, starting to pull it into chunks. "She's my friend."

Arya smiled at all the little faces peering at her in wonderment. She gave a small wave and piled the wedges of bread on the wrapping paper, sliding it to the centre of the table. When she and Gendry had passed out all the bowls, the room became eerily quiet. They nodded to the mistress who ran the Home and left while everyone was absorbed in their food.

"Do you do that a lot?" She asked on the way back, giving her hand to Gendry when he reached for it without a second thought. His huge callused palm engulfing her small one with such amazing warmth made her feel safer than she had felt in a very long time. "Feed the children?"

"Every evening if I can. I make good money in my trade so I don't mind buying the extra food; and cooking it myself means that I save Helena, the woman who keeps the Home, a little extra time and money each day. Plus, the children get a good meal and I get lots of lovely little hugs and smiles in return." Gendry smiled to himself. It was evident on his face that seeing those children happy and healthy was the highlight of his day.

"That's very kind. Not many people would do it." She watched his profile in the light from the sun that had almost set.

"I've been where they are. Parents gone or dead, never knowing whose hand you will go to next or where to find your next meal. I remember feeling hopeless, wishing someone would take pity on me and offer a little bit of kindness. I only doing for them what I hope they will do for others someday; what I hoped someone would do for me."

Arya was gobsmacked. Of all the travelling they did as their younger selves, she had never seen this side of him. She supposed it had come with maturity. "How long have you been feeding helpless children then?" She smiled at him, earning a small one back.

"For the past few months here in Braavos. I did the same in Pentos when I lived there for two small Homes nearby to my forge as well." They reached the gated entrance to the blacksmith shop and Gendry opened it and ushered her in before him.

Arya was getting weary after her walk, however short it was. Her shoulders had started to droop and her steps were becoming laboured. Gendry watched her stumble through his home to a stool like a puppy with a wounded paw.

"It's time for bed I think." He said, earning himself a sceptical look. "Can I check your bandages before you retire?"

Arya nodded to him and he ventured to his bedroom, nodding his head for her to follow. When she was comfortably sat on the bed, he dropped to his knees on the floor, lifted her shirt and tucked it just below her chest. Blood had started to seep through the linens, meaning that he once again was going to have to replace them and clean the wound.

"I need to change them." She nodded for him to continue. He began methodically unravelling the bandages from her torso, struggling to ignore her gaze watching him closely.

"How many times have you done this?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

"Every time you bled through your wrappings." He answered without looking up at her, ever conscious of the task he was undertaking. "So three times a day or more at the beginning and twice a day since you first woke up. Your wounds were deep, and I stitched as best I could but I couldn't stem the bleeding as much as I would have liked. It's part of the reason you have been bed-ridden as long as you have, because of the amount of blood you have been losing. It's slowed greatly since the first days but you should still be careful not to strain yourself. The more you move about the more you are likely to open up the dried blood." Arya sat in shock; she hadn't realised she had been so broken. He took her silence to carry on, "You wriggle too much in your sleep. You are constantly flipping over and over, so nearly every time I checked on you I had to change your bandages because you had managed to crack the wounds open again. It's a vicious cycle."

"Who taught you to do this? It's not usually something that a blacksmith has knowledge in."

"I was under the care of a medicine man for a while in Pentos; before I bought my forge there." He rose and left the room briefly, returning in minutes with a bowl of steaming water. Taking a small rag into his hand he dipped it into the water and began cleaning the pale skin between her wounds. Arya waited with her eyebrows raised at him, expecting him to continue.

"You do realise saying that has opened up _so_ much more I want to ask."

Gendry laughed gently at her, looking up into her face. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a bit of a busy-body?"

"My mother always said I talk too much; ask too many questions."

"She was right." He smiled, he eyes crinkling at the edges and little dimples forming in his cheeks.

Arya watched him then instead of talking. The smile lingered around his lips for a while until he started to wrap strips of linen around her again, then his lips pursed in concentration. Gendry had become a man, similar to how she had grown to somewhat resemble a young woman. His body had thickened, his shoulders had widened. His hair had grown to curl at the nape of his neck, and he had gained height she never expected. The only that had stayed the same was his face. Other than the lines of his jaw hardening, his expressions were the same as the boy she knew from years before. His smile was a teasing as ever, his eyes dancing with the same humour they always had. Even those darn dimpled cheeks were just as alluring. She was studying him when she noticed a small scar above his left eyebrow.

Arya remembered.

" _Mi'lady." Gendry teased her once again for what felt the hundredth time today, bowing as she passed him. Their party had stopped by a fast running river to gather water and rest the horses pulling the carriage. Arya had taken the opportunity, while all the other boys were busy, to go do her business in a close bunch of trees. She was just about to enter the clearing where the smell of food being cooked was drifting when he stepped out from between the bushes. She had huffed at him and carried on when he emerged. Then he said it. It stopped her dead in her tracks and had her whipping around to give him a piece of her mind._

" _Shut up, you pig-headed idiot! Don't call me that! I'm not a lady!"_

" _As mi'lady commands." He said back, bowing low again._

 _She growled at him, making his façade crack. His body shook with laughter and he grasped his stomach, doubling over._

 _Arya picked up the first thing her hand came to, a sizable rock, and lobbed it at him in anger. It caught him by surprise and he didn't have time to dodge. He yelped, clasping a hand over his left eye; his right staring at her with betrayal. She jutted out her chin in satisfaction._

" _You hit me!" Gendry screeched at her. "That wasn't very ladylike."_

 _Her grin dropped, causing him to chuckle again. He removed his hand and she saw she had left a gouge above his eye, blood trickling down the side of his face._

" _You stupid bull!" Arya huffed._

" _You shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you." He laughed at her._

 _She turned on her heel and began marching back to the river. "Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone!"_

 _She didn't speak to him for the rest of the day until it was time to sleep. His head hadn't stopped bleeding yet. Of course, it didn't help that every time he looked at her he started laughing, opening up the gash again and again. She found him sat by a slower-moving patch of the river a little away from the rest of their group. He was using his hand to try and clean the cut with water but winced every time the cold touched his head. She shuffled closer to him and pushed his hand down. Ripping a strip from the bottom of her shirt, she dipped it into the water and proceeded to press it to his wound. He bristled a little, but she carried on until the blood had stopped. He looked up at her in guilt._

" _Stupid bull," She said, smiling slightly. "You should know better than to anger a wolf."_

Arya watched him finish his work, her head cocked to the side. He tied the ends of the bandages together and tucked them in, then pulled his shirt back over her stomach.

Gendry gathered his supplies, filling up the chest once more and pushing it back under the bed.

"All done." He said, wadding the blood-stained linens into a ball and dropping them in the water bowl.

Arya outstretched her hand without thinking and prodded at the scar she had given him. "Stupid bull." She whispered, stroking her fingertip gently over the puckered skin that was now no bigger than her nail.

His jaw slackened and his eyes darted around her face fleetingly. He reached up with his own hand, hooking his long fingers around the back of her thin neck and dragged her towards him.

Their lips crashed together with impossible heat. His mouth was immensely warm, just like the rest of him. She could feel him push up on his knees, bringing his chest flush with hers. Arya instinctively opened her legs, allowing him to fit his body between them. She brought her other hand up to his chest, brushing it over his shoulder, and clasping them both behind his head. His fingers were gliding up and down her back, the hand that was on her neck now tangled in her hair. He pulled her closer towards him, removing his lips from hers only to move on to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She gasped for air, clutching at the muscles of his back. Her nails scraped along his skin causing a shiver to wrack through his body. He left a trail of fiery hot kisses back up the soft flesh of her neck to reach her lips once more. Their bodies crushed together, trying to climb inside each other. It was only when his burning hands touched the bare skin of her waist just below her wrappings that she was jolted back to existence. She pulled her mouth from his, arching her head back to allow him access to her throat.

"Gendry…?" she murmured, her voice not her own.

"Mmh?" He grunted back, nipping below her collar.

"Stop." She whispered, not completely sure of her words.

"Mmh." He grunted again. It took him a moment to fully realise what she had said. When he did, his forehead dropped on to her shoulder. His chest was heaving between them, "Sorry."

She wound her fingers into his hair, tugging gently and causing him to groan. When he lifted his head, she gave him a small kiss on the lips. "I should probably sleep."

"Of course." He untangled himself from her and got to his feet. Picking up her legs, he swung her round to lay on the bed fully and pulled his many blankets over her. He collected the bowl of water and ventured towards the doorway.

Arya shuffled onto her side to watch him leave. "Goodnight," he said over his shoulder. He turned and began to slide the curtain closed. Halting, he smirked at her, dimples in full force. "Mi'lady." Bowing slightly, he pulled the fabric over. He chose to ignore her resounding growl.


	2. Chapter 2

Gendry woke abruptly in the dead of night, startled awake by a loud yell.

"No one! A girl is no one!" Arya was yelling out in her sleep. Gendry jumped to his feet and pulled the curtain down in his haste to get to her. He found her thrashing and twisting, tangled in covers, sweat rolling in beads down her face and arms. She was having a night terror. "Please, stop!"

"Arya!" he called, pulling blanket after blanket from her limbs trying to cool her. The front of her shirt was stained with more blood than he had seen in days; the bed sheets red with it. Her movement must have popped one of the gashes in her stomach open.

She was jerking so badly he feared she may break a bone. Gendry grasped both her wrists in one of his large palms, holding them to the bed above her head. He spoke to her softly, saying her name and willing her to wake up. His old mentor told him never to wake someone who was having a night terror abruptly; it was easy to damage the mind this way.

Gendry remembered a song from when he was very small. One his mother used to sing to him before she died, when he had hurt himself or when he was scared of something. He tried to remember the words as best he could but ended up just humming the melody in Arya's ear, hoping it would soothe her the way it did him as a child. He stroked her hair from her forehead and ran his fingertips over her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. Her body slowed gradually, her thrashing turning to twitches. Her muscles were finally relaxed as he sang the last few lines of his song, the only words he could remember.

"I will be there in darkness,

To guide you like a light.

I will bring you home, my love

And hold you through the night."

He released her hands, and pushed himself to sit back on the bed. He was surprised she hadn't woken yet, either from fear or pain. Gendry lifted her shirt to inspect the damage and realised his worst fear. Her bandages had come loose with her writhing and two of her wounds were laid open, spilling blood onto his mattress. He chose not to wake her, preferring for her to sleep through the treatment as she had before. Besides, if she hadn't woke yet with the pain she probably wouldn't for a long while. He gently lifted his shirt over her head, removing her arms as he did. Averting his eyes, he covered her chest with a folded thin blanket to offer her some privacy. He did the same with her breeches, covering her lap. Both items of clothing were almost dripping with blood; it was a wonder she was still alive. He dropped them in a pile near the door, and yanked his medical chest from under the bed yet again. Finding his strips of cloth and homemade potent alcohol mixture, he pressed his hand to her abdomen in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Spilling some of the mixture onto a pile of rags, he then held it to her wounds hoping the blood would slow as it had before so he could work on getting her sewn up. After quite a while, the cloths he was switching out began to hold less and less of her life essence to the point where all that was left was mostly dried. He rushed into the other room for a bucket of warmed water and proceeded to soak more strips of cloth to clean the skin around her wounds. He knew not to get water into the gap or it may dilute and open again, causing more bleeding than before.

Gendry fished out a sewing needle and some fine thread from his chest. With steady hands he pulled the skin on either side of one long gash together and stitched carefully, then moved on to the next until no holes were left. Using a damp cloth he wiped away most of the leftover dried blood that surrounded her stitches. Just like before, he laid dried alcohol-soaked wrappings over her wounds to help it heal and to keep it clean, then wound clean bandaging around her torso until he was satisfied that it wouldn't come loose again.

After finishing her treatment, he went to his dresser and grabbed some fresh clothing for her. He cleaned her skin quickly with fresh water to remove any traces of blood. Gendry then retreated to the other room for a short while to set some piles of hay and blankets on the floor in front of the fire. He picked her up in his arms, still naked but with covers on her body, and carried her to the makeshift bed. There, he checked her over for any last traces of injury or leftover blood stain. When he was assured that she was okay, he gathered the clothes he had picked out for her and dressed her, being careful not to reveal her soft flesh any more than he had to.

Cleaned, treated and newly dressed, Gendry covered Arya in some clean blankets that were warmed from lying near to the fire. He collected up the soiled bandaging, bedding and clothing and put it all in a large metal tub in a corner of the room. He filled a few buckets with water from outside and heated half over the flames. He used cold water to wash down his mattress and bed frame and any blood spattering that had made its way to the walls or floor. When the rest of the water had warmed fully he tipped it into the metal tub, setting the fabrics to soak so he could wash the blood stains from them easier in the morning.

When his mammoth task was finished, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. He could hear some vendors bustling down the street to set up their shops early for custom. Shaking his head and sighing heavily, he rubbed his hands over his face vigorously trying to wipe away the fatigue that threatened him.

Gendry took one look down at Arya Stark, the bravest woman he had ever known, curled into a ball asleep next his fire. He sighed again, and slipped his vest over his head. He shuffled himself onto the straw behind her and stole some of her blankets to cover his waist. Falling into a deep sleep was easy given his nightly activities. He dreamt of a wolf, lonely, cowering from a great shadow that threatened to block out all light from the world.

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Arya drifted awake while it was still dark out, shivering yet surrounded by warmth. She instantly felt wrong; something was different.

She was laid on the ground in front of a dying fire. Her clothes had been changed and the bedding was fresh. Arya felt like a hammer was rapping her over the head repeatedly. She felt somehow hollow, and her limbs were leaden down like huge sacks of potatoes.

The feeling of hot breath on her neck confused her; and the heavy palm on her hip made her turn steadily. She found the source of the heat. Gendry was slumbering peacefully behind her, his face nuzzled into her hair. If she had all her wits about her at the time she might have laughed at his slacked-jawed expression.

Over his shoulder, movement caught her eye. She glanced up through the doorway into his bedroom. With no light other than the almost depleted fire, she was having trouble focusing but she was sure she had seen something moving around in the adjoining room. Her hairs stood on end and she attempted to twist round further and get a better look. The stabbing pain in her stomach was holding her back; she hadn't had this much discomfort yesterday. What happened to her?

Arya turned back to the fire briefly to grasp at her covers and fling them away. Slowly rising to her knees, she stared into the darkness, willing for her mind to be playing tricks on her.

Eyes. A pair of dark, soulless eyes glowered at her from the shadows. The eyes seemed to be everywhere, taking over everything in the room. Arya's blood ran cold, her shivering worsened, and she began to shuffle backwards instinctively.

"G-Gendry…" she whispered, her voice cracking in fear.

The eyes grew larger and closer to her. Inch by inch the figure stepped more into the light. Shallow pale skin framed the eyes, and dark lank hair framed the skin. Her clothes were black; she was ghost in the darkness. The Waif.

She stepped forward, one painstaking step at a time.

Arya was beginning to get frantic. She pushed back against the hay lining the floor, putting her hands behind her and gasping in when they met the burning wood of the fire. She flailed her feet out in a desperate attempt to push herself away with every movement her attacker to towards her. Arya's chest was heaving, her vision was blurring, and her body was failing her.

"Gendry!" She screeched before blacking out completely, slumping sideways, her hair singed at the ends where it caught the fire.

Gendry woke with a start to see Arya falling unconscious by the fire. He caught a glimpse of her terrified expression before she fell, and whipped round, finding the source of her fear.

A gaunt woman stood in the doorway of his bedroom, dagger glinting in her hand. She had eyes only for Arya; it was like he was invisible. She was no bigger than Arya herself, her physique the same, her height the same, even her hair was very similar. It was the eyes he couldn't stand to look at for longer than a glance. They had no life; just orbs of pure darkness, consumed by hatred and a lust for death.

He grasped the closest weapon he could; a heavy pair of metal tongs. The clattering alerted her to his presence and she turned to him, startled. She had never even registered he was there until now. He jumped to his feet and lunged at her, swiping his weapon through the air. She managed to dodge him and jumped backwards. Her back hit the corner of the brick doorway with force, winding her momentarily. He swung at her again, but she jolted to the side and landed on her knees. Bringing the heavy tongs over his head he prepared to lay a final blow, pulling his arms down with huge force. She pushed herself off the floor and skidded backwards. He stepped to the side and planted himself between her and Arya; brandished the metal at her again and managed to make contact with the side of her body. With a strangled cry, her face full of fury, she turned and bolted from the building. He heard his gate slamming shut from the yard.

Gendry started going after her, but stopped in his tracks when he looked down at Arya. She was pale, she melded in to the white stone floor. He hands were red and angry. _She's burned,_ he thought. He dropped his makeshift weapon to the floor and bent low to pick her up. He laid her out of the hay and retreated to gather a salve and some linen strips from his medical chest. All he seemed to be doing lately was bandaging her up.

She began to stir while he treated her hands. He had barely tied the wrappings up when she pulled them from him, attempting to push herself to her feet frantically.

"The Waif, she's here! Gendry, she's found me," She panicked, backing away from the dark bedroom.

"Relax, she's gone." Her flittering eyes finally stopped on him. "I scared her off."

"You can't scare her, she's a demon!"

"Arya, stop." He approached her slowly, reaching out to grasp her upper arms in his hands. "I hit her; I think I hurt her. Either way, she's not here now. You can calm down; I won't let her get to you." Gendry pulled her to him and wrapped his arms gently around her small frame, tucking her into his chest. He could feel her ragged breaths and the tears on her cheeks against his skin. He had never seen her like this. She had always been so strong and brave when he knew her as a child. _Though,_ he thought. _If this 'Waif' woman were trying to kill me, I would be scared too. Arya is right; she is some kind of demon._

He stroked her back with one hand and cupped her head with other, letting her cry her fears away into his chest. What had she done to deserve this? Why was this monster hunting her?

"Thank you, again." She mumbled into him. "It seems I owe you my life twice now."

"Like I said, nobody will harm you while you are by my side."

"Why do you feel the need to protect me so much?" She peered up at him through watery eyes.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" he rebutted. Arya pulled away from him, dropping her eyes a stepping back a few feet. "Maybe you would rather get information from others than share a little information of your own?"

She gulped, her face downcast. He had rumbled her. She turned her back to him, willing that he would let the matter drop.

"Talk to me, Arya." She felt his hand touch her shoulder, making her tense muscles relax against her will. He stepped behind her, pressing his chest to her back and allowing his warmth to seep into her.

So she sagged against him, suddenly extremely tired, and talked.

They spoke well past the sun rising. Arya told him of her time with the Hound, sailing to Braavos, her initiation into The House of Black and White, losing her sight in punishment, and the attempt on her life by The Waif. Gendry told her how he came to be with the Red Woman, how he was freed and told to row as far and as fast as he could, the trader's boat that picked him up from the middle of the sea just as he thought he might die of starvation, and buying his own blacksmith shop in Pentos with the money he was given by Ser Davos. He told her how he had left that shop in the capable hands of his apprentice, Michaelle, and how he had made such good profit he had travelled to Braavos to open a second shop.

They only stopped when Arya's stomach complained loudly. He laid out the table for them with fruits and pastries he bought yesterday, and they ate in comfortable silence. She was looking around his shop at all the swords and axes that lined the walls in racks. Some needing to be sharpened and finished, ready to be sold to those who had requested them, and some he made in advance to go out to the market with him when the next boat load of traders came to port. He always looked out for the men who saved him on the ocean, giving them special prices on his best gear in thanks.

The multitude of weapons gave her pause for thought. "I need your help retrieving something." She spoke up, turning her eyes on him.

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For the next week, Arya and Gendry kept inside as much as they could. They were constantly on guard for an attack on either of their lives. Gendry left every other day for a few hours to buy fresh food and to visit with customers to deliver his merchandise. Helena, the woman that ran the Childrens Home, called round to the shop for meals instead of Gendry taking them to her. She said every evening that the children were missing him, but he explained that Arry was sick and he needed to stay in as much as possible to take care of her.

It took another week for Arya to get back to full health, though she was being extra careful not to cause herself any more harm. The burns on her hands were mostly superficial so they healed quickly, but the gashes to her stomach took a while longer. She was under a strict medical regime from Gendry, with the promise that if she began to thrash in the night again he would wake her. Once or twice a nightmare had taken her and he had to pin her down and let her ride it out. Keeping a constant eye out meant that Gendry got very little rest of his own, taking to napping in small doses during the day.

Gendry and Arya had taken to sharing a bed so he could keep her calmed and still while she was asleep. It was Arya's suggestion when she woke in the night once and saw him asleep on the cold stone floor next to the bed with only a thin blanket to comfort him. It was only just big enough for the both of them but she felt strangely comforted falling asleep under his protection. Plus, with his large frame in the bed next to her she had barely any room to move so she couldn't 'spin like a hog on a spit roast' as he so eloquently put it.

It was tonight, well after the sun had gone down, that they ventured together into the streets. Arya was bandaged to the nines but felt no pain as she crept inside the shadows, keeping to every back street she could remember. Gendry, who hadn't been in Braavos as long as her, followed hot on her heels. The only people out this late in the night were drunkards and whores, so they felt fairly certain they could get their task accomplished without arousing suspicion. Gendry had a heavy war hammer at his hip, hidden beneath a long cloak. He had given Arya a small, slightly curved sword. Apparently, it was a make of his own that was halfway between a Pentoshi scimitar and a regular Westerosi dagger. Arya had noticed it when he pulled a large trunk of weaponry from his store room and instantly taken a liking to it. It was light and small but deathly sharp; 'just like her' he had jested.

When they reached the docks, Arya began to count. She led the way through a maze of streets and corners, constantly counting at each turn under her breath. She switched directions sporadically, seemingly without rhyme or rhythm. Gendry was finding it difficult to follow her directions, so he trusted that she knew where to lead him.

"99… 100." She halted abruptly, nearly causing him to slam into her back.

Arya had stopped at what looked like the entrance to some underground tunnels or sewers. She took a lantern from the bracket nearest her head.

"Stay here." She ordered over her shoulder at him. She was halfway down the passageway and turning into a channel before he could think about protesting; his only option to stay and keep watch.

Arya followed the tunnel round a short ways until it opened up into a dark room. She used the torch to light a candle set up on a small table nearby and then dropped the wood into a puddle at her feet, extinguishing it.

The candle barely lit the room, but that was what she wanted. She knew what was going to happen. She could sense it, like a premonition. She expected the unexpected; a lesson from her initiation into The Faceless Men.

She could hear the footsteps before they were there. "The Many-Faced God was promised a name. You didn't do your job right, so now The Many-Faced God requires another name."

Panic started to bubble in her chest, just below the surface, but she swallowed it down. Facing her fears was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

"I know a lot of names. I had a list you know." She said, not entirely to herself. "A list of people I thought deserved to die; that I planned to kill." Arya turned, coming face to face with The Waif.

"This will all be over soon. Trying to buy your time with words won't help you now."

"Some of the people on my list are still alive, some aren't. I remember every single one of them. Even when I was trying to forget my own name, I still remembered theirs." She knelt, her hand feeling across the floor for a familiar crack in the stone.

"On your knees or on your feet, it doesn't matter to The Many-Faced God."

"I used to say them to myself every night. Joffrey. Cersei. The Tickler." Her fingertips found a small opening between two slabs. She kept her eyes on her opponent the whole time, keeping her attention. "Polliver. Ser Amory Lorch. Walder Frey." She worked her hand between the gap and pulled at the loose stones there carefully, opening it up wider. "Meryn Trant. Tywin Lannister. The Red Woman. Beric Dondarrion." Her palm hit cold metal. Arya grasped it tight. "Thoros of Myr. Ser Ilyn Payne. The Mountain. The Hound"

She pulled with all her strength, ripping her faithful Needle from between the rubble. "Jaqen H'ghar. The Waif." Arya slammed her eyes shut, swinging needle to the side and slicing through the candle. They were plunged into darkness in seconds.

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Gendry heard an unmistakable blood-curdling cry from inside the tunnels. He bolted through the darkness towards it, feeling his way blindly across the cold stone walls, until he slammed into a small body.

"Who's there? Arya?" He shouted, his hand flying to the hammer on his belt.

"It's me, you stupid bull. You knocked me over." He heard the clatter of metal on stone. "Help me up, my hands are full."

"What?" He asked, confused. He reached out to her, finding her arm and pulling her to her feet gently.

Arya led the way again through the tunnels and back out at the entrance he was stood guarding. He finally got a look at her in the moonlight. She looked fine, other than her left hand which was dripping with blood. It was then he finally noticed the familiar sword she held.

"Needle! Is that what you came here for?"

"That and one more thing."

She began to move away without a warning, making Gendry lurch to catch up with her. He registered the bundle of cloth in her uninjured hand and the red liquid beginning to soak through it and drip onto the floor where she walked.

"Do I want to know what that is?" He asked tentatively.

Arya stopped in her tracks and turned to him slowly. "No." She said, flatly.

Then she carried on as fast as she had stopped and lead him through the streets again until they came to his home. She let herself through the back gate and barrelled through the door into his shop. She went straight for a bowl of water, plunging her hand into it. She gasped and groaned as her skin hit the cold water.

Gendry watched her, perplexed, then picked up Needle where she had abandoned it on the table. He grabbed a cloth from his work bench and smoothed it over the blade, cleaning away the smeared blood. He felt unsettled and the only way he could calm himself usually was to work on something.

She pulled her hand from the water, dried it on a rag, and marched into the bedroom. He could see her through the doorway pulling his medical chest from under the bed and heaving it open. She rattled bottles and upended boxes until she found his healing salve. Marching back to the room, she thrust it at him and sat by the fire next to him.

He wasn't sure she had blinked once since leaving the tunnels. Was this the body going into shock? Had she finally cracked?

Arya grunted and pushed her hand into his lap. He quickly opened the bottle and began smoothing the salve over the deeper scratches on her hand. "What happened?"

"I scraped my hand pulling Needle out of some rubble."

"Not what I meant."

She turned her head away from him, clearly done with the conversation before it had properly started. He chose to let the matter slide for now and focus on treating her. "How are your burns?"

"Fine."

"Your stomach?"

"Fine."

Gendry spent longer on her hand than he needed to. He wanted to watch her face. She was staring into the corner with blank eyes; her body rigid and unrelenting. She must have felt his gaze on her because she pulled her hand from his grasp and began gathering odd things from around the room. She picked some squares of linen and a small knife from his cupboard, a scrap of dark leather and a long leather strip. She searched his medical chest again and came up with the biggest needle and thickest thread he had, then planted herself at the table and set to work. It looked to him like she was making a small leather sack.

It was an hour or more before she jumped up again, darting back to the bedroom. She reminded him of a wolf on the hunt; constantly twitching and moving, never wanting to be sat still for longer than she absolutely had to.

While she was consumed in the other room, he stepped into the yard. It was nearing midnight, the moon sitting high in the sky. Gendry considered Arya's actions. She was not herself, and it wasn't difficult to figure out why. The scream he had heard earlier must have belonged to The Waif, it was the only explanation as to why her demeanour was suddenly so jittery and strange.

He spent some time watching the stars pass over the sky, making room for the sun to peek its head over the horizon again once morning came. When his body began to slacken and droop he thought it best to get some sleep while he could. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

"I'm going to bed." He announced, stepping back in. "You should try and rest some too."

She was perched on a stool next to the fire, sharpening her sword slowly with a stone. Her eyes followed each stroke with precision, never wavering. The only indication she had heard him was a curt nod.

Gendry retreated, not knowing what to say to her anymore. He decided to leave her to her thoughts and hoped that his Arya would return to him. She sat in the other room for a while, sharpening Needle. He could hear the stone swiping over metal again and again. He stripped away his shirt and lay back on the bed listening to the monotony of it. He could see her through the doorway in the dim light; so he saw when she glanced up at him. She looked at war with herself for a few moments, and then set aside her sword and stone, rising to her feet slowly with the grace of a stalking lioness.

Her eyes were on fire, glowering at him under those dark brows. She reached one hand up to pull the leather tie from her hair, letting it swing to her shoulders – thick, long, and black as the night.

He remembered when he first realised she was a girl.

 _He was gathering water not long after their party had set out on the road north, and he saw her through the trees. She had come across a wild fox that was injured. It was hobbling back to its shelter in the thick brush nearby. A boy would have killed the fox to put it out of its misery, or played with it to see it suffer. Gendry moved closer to her, and saw as she put her hand out, filled with berries, towards the animal. It was very thin and had obviously been unable to find food in some time. The fox came to her slowly and began to nibble from her palm. When she gained its trust, she moved to pet it on the head. It rolled onto its side, stomach filled somewhat but still injured. Arya gently touched it's paw and found it bloody. There were gashes in the flesh, dried blood in the fur. It had been caught in a trap. She took the jug of water that she had laid down beside her and began to pour it gently over the fox's wounds. It whimpered and whined, but stayed put. It was as if the animal sensed she wouldn't harm it. When the wound was clean, Arya pulled a strip of cloth from her sleeve and wrapped it around the paw several times. The fox stood slowly, testing it's own weight. It must have realised the pain had gone because it barked once at Arya and tottered off into the brush. Just as she was exiting the tree-line, the fox returned and barked at her again. It was followed by three small, bronze pups. They yipped quietly at Arya then joined their mother - into the forest once more. When she turned, Gendry saw tears fresh on her cheeks. She had wept over the injured fox and it's children. That was when he realised she was a girl, and she had much more to her than anyone he had met before._

Gendry watched the girl he had once known, now a woman, stalk towards him. When she met the entrance to his bedroom, she stopped and untied the knot on her borrowed trousers. Her eyes never left his, even as her bottoms pooled onto the floor and she stepped her bare feet out of them. His shirt, that sat miles too big on her, had slipped down over one shoulder exposing creamy pale skin to match her impossibly long legs. He marvelled at how her legs looked so long when she was in nothing but his shirt, yet she was still dwarfed by most men.

He moved to prop himself on his elbow, eyes stuck on her. She was entrancing him. Small and vulnerable on the outside, yet steely and strong in her core. She prowled round to the end of the bed. Her hair rustled slightly in the draft from the open window behind her.

Watching her here, half naked, hair blowing in the wind, with moonlight behind her, Gendry thought she was an ethereal beauty. A Goddess of war with her obsidian gaze; great strength in her every move, a mind as complex as the most difficult puzzle, and with a tongue as sharp as her sword.

He moved to the foot of the bed, sitting upright in front of her. She stepped between his parted knees and placed her gentle hands upon his wrists. Gliding upwards, she dragged her fingertips over the veins that pulsed in his forearms, his bulging biceps and wide shoulders. She twined her fingers into his hair and grasped firmly, tugging his head back slightly.

Gendry sat frozen, his eyes clasped shut, when he felt her lips press a soft kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat. His breath escaped his lungs in a gasp and he jolted into action. He pushed one hand into the small of her back, bringing her closer to him, while the other went to the back of her neck. He pulled her towards him, capturing her lips at once. Their lips melted together, fire and steel, fighting for dominance.

Arya's fingernails scraped over his shoulders, eliciting a guttural groan from deep within his stomach. She felt his hand pull at her hair, forcing her head backwards. Her neck exposed, he trailed fiery kisses from her mouth, across her jaw to below her ear and downwards, ending at the collar of his shirt. His other hand slipped to grasp her back side, his fingers brushing bare skin at the top of her thigh. He lit her body alight, suddenly all she wanted was him. Her mind was blissfully clear, filled instead with the blue of his eyes and the ashy scent of his skin.

She put both her hands on his chest and pushed hard, making him fall back onto the mattress. He huffed out a breath, pure lust evident through his surprise. Arya climbed into his lap, a knee on either side of his waist. She picked the hem of her shirt up and inched it up over her torso, only taking her eyes away from his as she pulled it over her head. She was bared to him completely except for the bandages around her stomach.

Gendry's breathing laboured and his fingers dug into the soft flesh at her waist. He kissed her more than willingly when she bent to capture his lips but he was mesmerised by her skin. He held her tightly and picked her up off his lap. She yelped slightly as he flipped their bodies and pressed her back into the blankets. He wanted to taste her.

Starting at her throat, he ran his tongue down to the centre of her chest. He splayed his hands out on her ribs, fingertips brushing the underside of her breasts. He kissed his way back up and took one of her marbled nipples into his mouth, her back arching off the bed in response. He repeated with the other nipple, earning a small moan. His hands touched every bit of skin he could find, her wrists, her darn perfect legs, her waist, her muscled back, her pert arse, her firm breasts. He couldn't get enough of her. He savoured every mewl and moan he earned. His lips never left her. If he wasn't kissing her plump, pink lips he was kissing her glorious skin.

Arya's head was imploding with the feel of him, his callused skin all over her. She could barely stand it. She fumbled at the ties on his trousers, pushing them aside to grasp at his member. It occurred to her that she had no idea what she was doing. He gasped every time her hand twitched on him so she took the initiative and began to move. She stroked her fingertips up and down his hard length while her lips were focused on his collar. She could feel his breath hitching just above her head. He groaned with frustration and put his hand over hers, stilling her. He wrapped her fingers around him, and then began to move her by the wrist up and down, from the base of coarse hair to the soft tip. The mixture of her hand's movements and the kisses she was leaving on his chest had him panting above her. Just as she was getting into her stride, he pulled himself away from her. He grasped each of her legs behind the knee and pulled them up around his waist. He gave her a lingering kiss on the lips then left them to look into her eyes.

"Arya…" He gasped, like a whisper on the wind.

"Don't." She pressed her fingers to his lips, and then moved them to caress his cheek. "I want this."

Gendry kissed her deeply once more, grasping his member with one hand and pushing upwards towards her centre. The heat consumed him instantly, she was burning. Arya was still beneath him, her face scrunching up around the bridge of her nose. _I'm her first_ , he realised. He wormed his hand between their bodies and began rubbing small circles over the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He waited until her face had fully smoothed out to move again, this time eliciting a moan from her. He pulled himself almost all the way out, still rubbing at her bulb, then slammed himself into her with force. He broke through her barrier, making her gasp out in shock. He kissed her mouth, her eyelids, her neck. He sucked her nipples into his mouth one after the other. He did his best to distract her from the pain, bringing her slowly back to the pleasure. He carried on teasing her body until her gasps turned to moans and she began to writhe under him.

Together they made music. His deep groans coupled with her sweet gasps. He pushed her closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. He was selfish, he took all her moans into his mouth with hot kisses, grasped her wrists and pinned them to the bed so she couldn't touch him. He put as much of his weight on her as he dared, drowning her in himself. He was a selfish bull, and she wanted every part of him. He thrust into her faster and faster, bringing her crashing into her release unexpectedly when he bit down on her shoulder. Her body shuddering and shook beneath him, cried ripping from her throat in ecstasy. He pumped into her a few times more, riding her through the waves, then pulled from her completely.

Arya sat up, still panting, to watch him with confusion. When she met his eyes, her stomach flipped over in anticipation. His brilliant blue orbs were dark and unforgiving. He grasped each of her ankles and pulled her down the bed to him. Then he enclosed his hands on her hips and lifted her to his chest with ease, capturing her lips in a spine-tingling kiss. She wrapped her legs around him and twined her arms around his neck. He placed his hands under her arse and slid her down onto him again. She threw her head back, baring her neck to him. He nibbled at her throat, turning to walk through the doorway. He carried her to his work bench and perched her on the edge, pushing anything in his way to the floor. He arched her back, lowering her onto the cold surface, his hand covering the flesh below her neck. He pulled out of her almost all the way and paused for a beat. Only when she was gasping and trying to ground her hips onto him did he give in and bury himself deep in her again. He carried on this rhythm painfully slowly until she was on the edge again, then pulled out of her completely, earned a cry of frustration.

Her eyes flew open and she glared at him with anger. "Gendry." She warned.

He kissed her sweetly on the lips and cocked a grin at her. She opened her mouth, ready to berate him, when he picked her up and planted her feet on the floor in front of him. He spun her round and gripped her upper arms, pulling her back into his chest, his pulsing cock pushing against her arse cheeks. Her hair flew back, brushing over his chest, and her breasts bounced out in front of her.

"Arya." He whispered in her ear.

Gendry bent her forward slowly and pressed his hand into the bottom of her back so she was flush with the wooden bench. He could imagine her nipples hardening at the cold touch. He slipped himself into her, revelling in the new sensation this position brought; her hot and wet enveloping him inch by inch. His member angled upwards inside her, causing him to rub against her sweetest spot and entice the loveliest moans from her throat. He grasped the ends of her dark hair in his fist, tugging her head back to arch her back, pushing himself impossibly deeper within her. Her moans became frantic and high-pitched; his groaning matching her in symphony. He was pounding into her wildly now, following the curve of her body. He felt her shudder and spasm, another orgasm ripping through her body. He was sure her answering shrieks would be heard all the way to the docks. He followed her not long after; skin slapping violently in the otherwise quiet room. He released her hair on the way down from his high.

"Seven Hells, Gendry." She gasped into the woodwork beneath her, making him laugh out loud.

Gendry pulled from her eventually, his cock limp and spent. When she stood upright he pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms around her body, his warmth seeping under her skin. He squeezed her gently and she winced, shoving her elbow into his ribs.

"Shit, sorry." He apologised when he realised he had forgotten all about the wounds on her stomach. "Are you okay? Do you need me to take a look?" He flustered, turning her around to inspect her bandages.

She stopped his flapping hands, a small smile gracing her features. "It's fine, just sore." She held his hands to her hips.

He knelt down in front of her, holding her gaze as he went, and placed a small feather kiss over her bandaged abdomen. When her jaw slackened and her eyebrows rose he got cocky. He grinned at her and kissed a little lower, eyes glued to her face.

Arya thought he was insatiable. He kissed the bottom of her stomach, then the soft curls of her mound. He dipped his tongue between her legs and flicked at her nub, swollen slightly from his earlier attentions. He licked at her folds like a man dying of thirst lapped at water. It didn't take long for her stomach to tighten yet again, pleasure coursing through her veins like a flash flood. She came quickly this time, no teasing needed.

Her knees began to buckle beneath her, no longer strong enough to hold her upright. Gendry managed to catch her in his arms before she dropped, and he carried her like a bride to their bed. He laid her under the covers gently and climbed in with her. Arya was folded into his warm embrace instantly, and her eyes fluttered shut at the same time his did, but she didn't sleep.

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It was a while later that she was sure Gendry was fully asleep. Though she didn't have to wait long for him to start snoring, she wanted to watch him slumber peacefully for a while. He was a magnificent man, everything about him was well and truly… _Gendry._

Which was why she felt so at war with herself. She had added Jaqen H'ghar to her list, but she wasn't sure she could accomplish the task. She was sure she could kill him without a problem; she just wasn't sure if she truly should. She no longer felt any allegiance to The Faceless Men but Jaqen had given her so much before she came to Braavos. He had saved her life multiple times. He had been her confidante and her friend for a time.

Arya felt hot tears slide down her face and into the pillow under her head.

She lay still, head spinning, contemplating what she had to do next. She'd had about as much anger and fear as she could handle. She wanted her family. She wanted her father to cuddle her, her mother to fuss over her. She wanted Jon to fluff up her hair, and even Sansa to tell her off for something ridiculous. She wanted more than anything to be surrounded by family again.

 _He had his back to her, fiddling with a metal breast plate. "What are doing?" She asked, causing him to whip round._

" _Mending Lord Beric's armour." Gendry replied, placing his tools back on the workbench._

" _Why?"_

 _He sighed, "I'm going to stay on and smith for the brotherhood."_

" _Have you lost your mind? When the Lannisters find this place they will cave your head in with your own hammer!" She yelled at him. "You don't have to do this. We're leaving tomorrow. Robb needs good men; you can…"_

" _Serve him? I'm done serving people."_

" _But you're serving Lord Beric!"_

" _He may be their leader, but they chose him. These men are brothers; they're a family." His eyes bored into her. "I've never had a family before."_

 _Her eyes began to moisten and her voice cracked. "I can be your family."_

 _Gendry watched her, small and powerful. She had lost so much in her life and stayed strong; yet now she was crying because she was losing him. His heart contracted; he wanted nothing but to grab her by the shoulders and hug her to him. But he couldn't. He was a blacksmith; she was Arya Stark, Lady of Winterfell. "You wouldn't be my family; you'd be mi'lady."_

 _She turned before he could see the tears stream down her face._

She looked up at the beautiful face of the man she had given her innocence to. She could safely say that neither of them had expected to see each other again after the Red Woman took Gendry, let alone be where they are now. He was her family, truly, even if she wasn't his.

She would do it for family. She would kill Jaqen H'ghar.

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The sun was yet to rise over Braavos. The streets were deserted.

Arya Stark was creeping out of the blacksmith's shop, Needle in one hand and a leather pouch with a strange red stain in the other.

She followed the paved paths to the docks, and followed the docks to The House of Black and White.

Inside, she went straight to the Hall of Faces, mounted The Waif, and waited for _him._

She heard his feet shuffling up the steps, following the trail of blood she had left to lure him to her. He had seen her; The Waif's face mounted on his wall.

Drawing Needle, she moved to stand behind him.

"You told her to kill me." She said, alerting him to her presence.

He turned to her slowly. "Yes, but here you are. And there she is." He moved forward, pressing his chest against the point of her blade. She could do it. Right now, without a second thought she could pierce him with a thousand holes. "Finally, a girl is no one."

"A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I'm going home." She stared him down, willing him to make his move, to kill her.

She didn't expect his slight nod, or the movement of his face away from her. She couldn't do it. Arya Stark is not no one. Arya Stark has caused too much death in her life.

She turned and hurried down the steps and through the building, making her way to the waterfront without a backwards glance.

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The sun was high in the sky when Gendry finally rose from his bed. He woke up feeling empty and cold, very unusual for him. When he noticed Arya had gone, he pulled on whatever clothes he could find and stormed from his shop.

He wound through streets, looking for any sign or disturbance. If someone had been dragged through the town kicking and screaming, there would be talk of it. He looked for blood trails too, though he had no idea what he would do if he found her dead. He must have checked every back street he knew of before he reached the market place. He asked around but people either said they hadn't seen anything or walked away, thinking him insane.

He reached the docks, almost about to give up hope, when he saw a familiar head of black hair stood watching the boats going past. He barged past anyone his way, toppling some stalls in his haste, and made his way to her.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. She was there, she was alive.

He heaved out a breath in relief and grasped her to his chest.

"I thought you had been taken. I woke and you weren't there. You made me crazy with worry," He admonished into the top of her hair.

"I'm sorry." She replied, hugging him back. "I had something to take care of."

He let go and held her at arm's length. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, a small tugging her lips up.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the Marketplace. Arya assured him it would safe for them to be out in the open from now on; insisted she had 'taken care' of things.

They had oysters to eat when they got hungry, and Gendry bought her a bracelet made up of tiny shells.

They were sat on the edge of the water, watching the ships sail by with their feet dangling in the water, when a middle aged man with a face that was more hair than skin approached them.

He bent to Arya, speaking to her quietly. "Your passage has been booked, madam. We leave at sun up tomorrow."

"Thank you." She replied, handing him a large pouch she pulled from inside her clothes.

When the man left, Gendry asked "What was that all about?".

"I bought passage on his boat. See that big one with the red sails?" She pointed out to sea, a ship tethered further out than most others. He knew it to be a passenger ship, not a cargo or trader ship, because of how far away from the docks it was floating. "It's taking me home, to Westeros, in the morning. I have to go be with my family, Gendry. I've stayed away for too long. I need to know if anyone is still alive. You're welcome to come with me, if you wish."

He watched her from the corner of his eye. Her gaze was steely and determined. This was something she would do with or without him.

"Sun up." He said, watching the ship with red sails. He turned to her, smiling. "We had best start packing."


	3. Chapter 3

Arya had moved fast all her life. Back home at Winterfell, she always wanted to be doing something. She was impatient and frustrated being in Kings Landing, where her only outlet was her water dancing lessons with Syrio. As for all the events after that; she couldn't remember ever moving as quickly as she had to then. Until, that is, she had to upend her life once again, with Gendry by her side this time.

Whereas Arya was always quick on her feet, Gendry however lived life in the slow lane. It made sense when you thought about it. The work of a blacksmith was slow, always waiting. He waited for metal to heat, hammered steadily, carved wood with such patience.

They had one night to gather their things together and sort out their affairs. It was a mammoth task to say the least. Gendry spent the rest of the afternoon figuring out what to do with his shop. He knew he had to sell it, but who would have enough money to buy the building, the pieces of furniture, and the supplies and weapons he had already made, overnight. He thought about going to the Iron Bank, but wasn't sure they would deal in something so small. You only ever heard of the Iron Bank funding Princes and Kings, not young blacksmiths. So, as Arya was gathering supplies for their journey across the Narrow Sea, he was asking merchants in the marketplace if they knew of anyone that would want to buy his shop at short notice. He would take any fair price he could; he just wanted to be rid of it before they got on the boat.

He was just returning from sending a raven to his apprentice in Pentos when he was approached by an elderly man with bright white hair and an accent he had never heard before. The man was peculiar; he wore greyed robes and a crooked grin and looked as though he could scarcely afford his next meal let alone all Gendry was offering. Yet, the man stood up as straight and proud as a flag pole when Gendry agreed to speak terms with him. The man enquired what price he was asking for the shop, grounds, furnishings and supplies – he said he couldn't take the weaponry as he had no means to sell it. Gendry asked for any price he could manage as long as it was fair, then sputtered and all but fell to the floor when the man offered 5000 Gold Dragons for his humble home and forge. Gendry was unsure whether he should believe the man actually had that kind of money, or was trying to take him for a fool. Then the man pulled a large sack from the folds of his robes and thrust it into his arms.

"I expect this should get you across the Narrow Sea well enough." He said to Gendry, nodding his head slightly then turning away. "The weapons you should sell, or keep. You may have need of them where you are going."

Gendry watched as the man blended into the crowd, disappearing into the masses of people. He stood frozen, 5000 gold dragons richer and suddenly homeless.

Arya stepped up behind Gendry, staring at the retreating back of a stranger she was sure she knew before he vanished with the blink of an eye. "Who was that man?" she asked.

Gendry turned to her, the heavy bag in his hand. "He bought my forge." He opened the bag, sure enough filled with more gold pieces than he had seen in his lifetime, and then gave it to her. "He said we should keep the weapons, we might need them across the Narrow Sea."

"You told him where you were going? What if he recognized you? We aren't out of the woods yet, Gendry! We're not safe until we get a thousand miles off shore, and even then it wouldn't be for certain!"

Gendry grasped her shoulders before she spiralled off into a rant. "No, that's just it. I didn't say a word about where we were going."

They watched each other for a heartbeat, and then turned to seek out the white haired man. He was definitely gone, not a trace left behind. They followed the path he took for a few yards and still saw no sign of him, which seemed difficult considering his hair and clothes should stand out against the sea of brown and tan bodies.

"I thought you had 'taken care of things', you said it was safe now." Gendry asked her, suddenly feeling very guilty. "Should I not have done it?"

"I thought it _was_ safe, I guess I was just being hopeful." Arya opened the bag of coin and sighed. "At least he paid you considerably –there's well over 5000 dragons in here."

"You talk like you knew who he was."

"I can't be sure. I just want more than anything to get on that boat and far away from here as soon as possible."

He took the heavy basket of supplies from her arm, and held her hand in his own. "This time tomorrow we will be on the water, sailing home. Look forward to that at least. You get to see your family again."

"If I have any family left."

He watched her eyes fill with an impossible sadness and his heart broke for her. He had never had family to miss so he had no idea what she was feeling. All he knew was that if he somehow lost her now, after having her so wholly in his life again, he would never recover.

"You've got me. Always." He placed her hand over his heart and gave her a small determined smile.

She smiled back slowly and stood on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

As they started walking back to the shop, Arya caught a glimpse of white hair through the crowd. The man who had bought Gendry out was stood on the other end of the dock, at the bottom of the steps to the House of Black and White. She watched him for a second, letting Gendry tug her along. He just stared, and stared, and when she thought maybe he was just a senile old man with too much money to throw around, he finally peeled away the film of his disguise.

 _Jaqen._

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"There's no way we can take all these weapons with us, they'll sink the ship!" Gendry called from inside his storage cupboard. He was rattling and clanking, sliding out racks of various weaponry and trunks full of armour. "We should look through them, pick out ones we want and sell the rest. I've got a guy down in the market place that I sell my spare stock to, I could see if he wants them for a fair price." He realised he was talking to himself and turned to look at her. "Arya?"

Arya was sat at his table, nursing a cup of bland ale and staring out of the window next to her. She hadn't said a word since they came back from the docks.

"What's wrong?" He asked, suddenly worried she may have been having second thoughts about asking him to go with her back to her home.

"How long did you say you have lived in Braavos?"

"About 6 months, why?"

"Have you made many friends while you have been here?"

"A few, mainly for business. What's this about?"

"The man who bought your shop, I know him. It was Jaqen. He had a different face when you spoke but I know it was him, I saw him." Gendry stayed quiet. "I'm telling you, Gendry. He-"

"I believe you. I saw him change his face before, after Harrenhal. Why would he buy my shop? And for way more than it's worth, too." He was concerned, rightly so.

"I don't know. I bet he's up to something, though. He usually is. Nothing is ever what it seems with the Faceless Men."

They sat for a while in silence, contemplating what Jaqen's actions could mean.

After some time they had no choice but to get on with gathering together anything they wanted to take with them on their travels. They emptied out every nook and cranny of Gendry's workshop as well as they could and by the time they had done that, they could barely move from the boxes and crates that filled the room. They rifled through everything as quickly as possible, picking out things that could prove useful to them. Barrels of leathers and crates of wood and different kinds of metal were left outside in the yard, then chests full of all sorts of different armours were sifted through and a few light pieces for each of them were picked out. Gendry remarked that he would have to alter some of the armour Arya had chosen unless she wanted to look like a tin can riding a horse.

By the time the sun had started to set they were exhausted but had managed to pick through almost everything Gendry owned. They had earmarked a few weapons for themselves but the rest was out in yard waiting to be sold. Arya had her needle, a long bow nearly the length of her body and a small dagger she could strap to her ankle. Gendry had kept it simple with his own short-handled war hammer and a shield he made for himself emblazoned with a bull's head.

"Is that enough?" Arya asked him. "One hammer? I thought you might want a sword at least."

He didn't answer, just walked straight past her into the bedroom. She heard him banging around for a few minutes until he came back with a long package, wrapped in black cloth.

"Nice package." She quipped, trying not to laugh when he gave her a startled look. There hadn't been much time for jokes lately.

Gendry unwrapped the cloth to reveal a greatsword bound in a riding sheath. He picked the weapon up off the table steadily.

"I have been making this for myself. It's not finished, but it will have to do." He gave her the end of the sheath and pulled the handle, releasing the sword from its confines with a tingling scrape. It was almost as tall as her. The handle was wrapped in black leather with a single strip of brown, the steel blade engraved part way down in an intricate winding pattern. The grip was in two sections with a guard between them, and the pommel was carved into a bull's head. "I'm kind of proud of it. I wanted a sword like this since I was a little boy but I never had the money to make one until now." It reminded Arya of her father's sword. It was a magnificent weapon.

"You should be proud. This is amazing Gendry." She watched with awe as he sheathed the blade again. "The bull's head? Still sticking to that are you?"

"What can I say, it reminds me of someone." He smiled at her gently, and then placed his sword with their other weapons.

With their arsenal complete, Gendry left to hunt down the man who would be purchasing all his stock. Arya, meanwhile, was packing up anything that looked important into a bag. She pulled out almost all the clothes in his dresser, the few books he had on his shelf, and the money he had stashed away in the bottom of his bedside unit. She noticed a small pile of diaries hidden away too; they looked old and worn like they had been rifled through many times. She was just beginning to snoop through the first one when Gendry returned.

"I'm taking those with me." He said, gesturing to the book in her hand. "They belonged to the fella I bought the forge from in Pentos."

"What are they?" She asked.

"Instructions, a bit like recipes, for some of the best weapons you've ever seen. Those are the reason I make so much money. One of those diaries alone is just on Valyrian steel, though I haven't been able to try it yet."

"Valyrian steel? You know how to make Valyrian steel?" She asked, incredulously.

"Sort of. Like I said, I haven't tried it yet. It's pretty difficult, it takes a hundred different types of metal and stone and most of those are only found in certain places. Plus, even if I could get all the materials, the back page of the book is missing so I doubt I would be able to get it fully right."

"Did you never ask the man who gave you them what the last page should have been?"

"I couldn't. The books were just left in a cupboard in the back room of the shop and when I tried to return them, the guy had gone. People I asked said he hadn't been seen since he sold me the forge so I just assumed he moved away." Gendry gathered the diaries up from around her and packed them in a leather satchel. "Anyway, these books are the tricks of my trade so I would rather keep them close."

They packed up the last of what little belongings they planned to take with them and sat down together to eat a delicious meal; most likely their last in Bravos.

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When they finished, they took the short walk to the Children's Home. Upon arrival they were both surrounded, as usual, with little bobbing heads and chattering voices. Gendry laughed, trying to wade through them all. It was heart-warming to see him do something he loved. He had the same smile on his face when he had finished crafting a sword or when they shared a kiss. These children doted on him as much as he did them. _He would be a fantastic father,_ Arya thought sadly.

Marriage and children was something she had never thought about before. She had never imaged herself taking a husband, always saying she would rather become a silent sister than be controlled by some stuffy old lord. But then, the silent sisters were only controlled by stuffy old gods. As a child, she had much rather battled with her brothers than take sewing lessons or climb towers with Bran than paint watercolours with Sansa and Jeyne Pool. She didn't see her thoughts changing now, even with Gendry back in her life.

They dished out the children's dinner then took their leave, walking round the houses for a while to enjoy their last night in the Free Cities. "Do you ever think about children?" she asked, out of blue and without any sort of brain-to-mouth filter. _Maybe I shouldn't have had that third cup of ale with dinner,_ she thought.

When he didn't answer, she looked at him and saw his cheeks were as red as she thought her own must be. "Wh-what do you mean, children?" he said. His face paled, realization spreading over it. "You're not-?"

"What? No!" Arya shrieked. "Gendry, we fucked once, two days ago! You're good, but you're not that good!"

"Oh thank the gods. Wait, was that an insult?" He looked at her dumbfounded.

"You're an idiot, Gendry. Have you got boulders for brains or something?"

"Hey, you're the one that brought up having children!" His face was starting to go red.

"No I didn't, I asked if you thought about them, not that I wanted you to impregnate me right this second you stupid bull-headed moron!"

"Well, you should have been clearer. You don't spring a question like that on a man you've only slept with once and hope to get a rational answer."

"How much clearer could I have got?" Arya had stopped, her fists were shaking and her cheeks were flushed. "Forget about it anyway, I wouldn't have your babies if you paid me!"

"Oh, really? What- because you're a Lady and I'm just a blacksmith?"

"I. Am. Not. A. _Lady_." She growled at him, thumping his chest in anger. He knew she hated that word.

"That's not very ladylike." He shot her a smirk, though she was too busy seeing red to notice.

She pulled her hand back, readying to punch him in the face, when he stepped up to her and grasped her around her waist. "There she is."

"What?" She was extremely confused. One minute they were fighting, the next he looked like he wanted to rip off her clothes and fuck her right in the street.

"My Arya. I've been waiting for her for weeks." He smiled, wrapping his arms around the small of her back and bringing her flush with his chest. She had to admit, it felt good to yell at him again. She was almost aroused until he started kissing and nipping his way up her neck – then she was definitely aroused. There were more moans and gasps slipping from between her lips than could be heard in a brothel house during happy hour. "Enjoying yourself, mi'lady?" He whispered into the skin at her throat, a stupid smirk evident in his voice.

She growled and pushed him away, both her hands on his chest. "Fuck you, Gendry!" Arya turned and stomped off to the shop, five paces in front the whole way.

She could still hear him laughing his head off when she had jumped into bed and blown out the candle in a huff.

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She woke very early in the morning, still alone in the bed. When she wandered into the other room, she saw Gendry slumped, fast asleep, on a stool by the corner; his gloves on and tools around his feet. It was the perfect time to exact revenge.

Arya grabbed an iron pot from a cabinet in the kitchen area and a large wooden ladle. She crept as quiet as a mouse to stand beside the sleeping man. Then she slammed the ladle onto the base of the pot as hard as she could over and over, screaming "Wake up!" in his ear. He all but jumped through the roof, startled onto his feet. He whipped around and glared at her, clutching his ears with his gloved hands.

"What was that for?!" He screamed at her.

"Sun's up in an hour, we need to get going." Arya smiled at him sweetly, dropped the pot and ladle on the table, and wandered back into the bedroom to get changed.

"You could have woken me up a little nicer!" He shouted after her.

"Why?" She poked her head through the doorway, her eyebrows crinkled with confusion. "It was effective. You're up, aren't you?"

They dressed hurriedly, scarfed down a quick breakfast, and gathered their things. Arya had stopped at a stall in the marketplace yesterday that sold clothing, and had managed to get herself a few pairs of the smallest men's trousers and jerkins she could find and some women's blouses. She felt much better in something that wasn't two times too big for her. She never thought that she would actually want to look remotely womanly, but it was nice to wear something other than overgrown shirts and loose cloth pants. She wasn't getting half as many funny looks now.

They carried their things to the port, weapons strapped to their persons. Their luggage was almost all Gendry's; to be truthful, Arya would have been happy with Needle and a package of food but Gendry had insisted that they be prepared for every eventuality. She protested, of course, and managed to whittle it down to enough to attach to a horse when she got to the shores of Westeros.

They reached the docks, spoke to the ship's captain, then dropped their belongings with the rest of the cargo. Arya decided to wander through the marketplace once more before they left, in search of a better pair of shoes than her fragile cloth slippers. She would need them the second they hit land; there were no cobbled streets and paved walkways on the winding roads through Westeros –just mud and shit and stone.

Arya had purchased her boots – boys sizes were all that would fit her – and was walking back to the ship to meet Gendry before they boarded when she noticed a stall selling herbs and herbal remedies. The lady running it was calling out her wares, trying to entice customers into buying an ox bile remedy that would give a bald man hair lovelier than Cersei Lannister, or a toad venom potion that would make any woman's skin glow golden and clear for as long as she was paying for it. It was then that Arya had a thought.

"I know exactly what you need, my dear." Said the old crone behind the stall. "Flower of the Wolfsbane plant. Brew a very small pinch of the petals as a tea and drink every evening with a spoon full of honey when you bleed."

"Isn't Wolfsbane poisonous?"

"Usually, yes, but by drinking it while you bleed, the toxins will pass through your body quickly and be expelled in the lost blood."

"Will it be effective?"

"It's the best remedy a woman in your circumstance can use. It will stem your fertility for as long as it is ingested properly."

"So, what's the honey for?"

"It tastes god awful!" The woman laughed manically then, making Arya step back slightly in shock. When she had calmed somewhat, Arya purchased three large pouches of the herb.

"Just a word of warning before you take it, dear. A small amount of the flowers brewed properly in this way will do you no unnecessary harm, but you must not eat the flowers as they are. They are a dangerous poison, and can easily kill anyone who does not use them correctly."

Arya nodded to the woman, suddenly wary, and took her leave. She made her way back to the docks, tucking her new boots and pouches of herb in her satchel.

Gendry pestered her from the second she set foot on the ship. "Where have you been?"

"To the market."

"What did you get?"

"Some shoes." She glowered at him.

"Was that it? I saw you at that medicine stall, are you okay?"

"Seven Hells, Gendry. You're nosier than an old woman!"

He smirked at her, annoying her more than before. " _Seven Hells, Gendry._ " He mimicked, waggling his eyebrows and making her cheeks flush when she remembered the last time she had said that to him.

"Shut up." Arya walked as far away from him as possible, right to the front of the ship, while her face flaming betrayed her thoughts. "Stupid suggestive eyebrows." She muttered under her breath. Arya couldn't understand how she had been training for the best part of three years to mask her emotions and control her thoughts, yet as soon as he popped back into her life it was like they were kids again. He infuriated her to no end, always so cocky and teasing, and she knew he did it just to get a rise out of her.

Gendry sidled up behind her and placed a large hand on each of her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." He said, though the smirk in his voice made Arya sure he wasn't as sorry as he let on.

"You're a pain in my arse, Gendry Waters."

"You love it." He replied, and pinched her right butt cheek. He scooted below deck rather hastily before she could decide whether to push him overboard, or just make the whole journey a living hell for him.

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Arya had moved further down the ship as they sailed out into open waters. They had passed under The Titan of Braavos about an hour ago but she could still see him if she squinted, standing guard like a proud soldier.

It wasn't until the sun was going down that Gendry spoke to her again, this time in their cabin. "We're going south aren't we? Are we not going into White Harbour?"

"No. I paid the captain a little more to take us further, to Gulltown."

"What about the Twins? If the Freys figure out who you are, they will never let you cross."

"We can use the Kingsroad. I have no intention of meeting Walder Frey just yet." She answered, watching the sea swirl around them through the small window.

"What about your Aunt Lysa? Shouldn't we go the Eyrie first, to find out from her where your family is?"

"Lysa is dead. The Hound tried to sell me to her a few years ago but we never even made it past The Bloody Gate. Littlefinger has the Eyrie now, another person I would prefer to stay well away from for now."

"Then where will you go first? Surely you won't ride for Winterfell without doing some research first. What if it's been taken? You may not be welcome there anymore."

"Winterfell _has_ been taken, by the Boltons." She turned to look at him. "They betrayed my mother and my brother, Robb, and took my home for themselves. Now, them, I wouldn't mind running in to." Her eyes glazed over with steely resolve and she shook slightly as her blood ran cold.

Gendry watched her; she changed from the Arya he knew to _something else_ imperceptibly. For the most part, Arya was everything he remembered. She was fierce and loyal to her family. Yet there were moments when he noticed another side to her, one he hadn't expected, and that scared him more than he cared to admit. He had changed a lot since they last saw each other, it was to be expected that she had too.

It wasn't until the sun had long since set on third day that they began to steer in to Gulltown

Gendry wanted to get a room at an inn nearby, Arya wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. It seemed that they were disagreeing at every turn. They compromised this time and decided to get a room overnight so they could spend some time asking around the town to find out the latest news, and then get on the road at first light to wherever her family may be.

Arya spent the rest of the day walking through the market next to the port, asking anyone she came across about her sister, Sansa, and the rest of the remaining Stark family. She had been up and down the harbour twice and had learned that Sansa had been married off to the bastard son of Lord Bolton. She had fled Winterfell and was escorted to The Wall by Brienne of Tarth, where she and Jon were bringing together an army to take back Winterfell. Arya felt as if her head might explode; she needed to get to The Wall and help them.

Gendry was in the Stable, trying to strike a bargain with the Groom for two of his best horses, when Arya came running to him, insisting they leave now for The Wall.

"Woah! Alright, calm down. Why The Wall?" Gendry steered her away from the stables and back out into the street, an arm around her shoulders.

"My sister is at The Wall, and my brother Jon. They plan to fight the Bolton army to take back Winterfell! I need to help them."

"It's a long way to The Wall, Arya. Who's to say they will even still be there by the time we arrive? They could be well on their way to Winterfell. We could travel all the way there, only to have to come back again. We would be useless to them then."

"Well, we have to do something, Gendry. I can't just leave them to do it alone! They're my family." Her eyes pleaded with him.

Gendry thought for a minute, considering the best way to approach the matter. "Why don't we make our way to Winterfell, and if they haven't arrived yet, we can follow the Kingsroad to The Wall. But we should set off tomorrow, it's best we get our rest for tonight."

"Gendry, I don't have the time to sit waiting around…"

"Just, listen to me. You are still recovering, Arya. You suffered near-fatal wounds. You will be no use to them dead."

Arya looked on the verge of tears, but agreed with him anyway. She retired back to the Inn to rest and bathe before they ate together, and Gendry bargained some more to get them the best horses in all of Gulltown.

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 _She was running faster than she had ever run before. But what she was seeing wasn't right. She was rushing past bushes and through grass faster than the wind, but she felt small. She should be shouldering branches out of the way, not slipping through them at half-height. She was too graceful, too fast, too low to the ground._

 _She slowed, coming into a clearing occupied by a small herd of wild deer. She danced around the brush, eyeing the animals grazing not a foot from her. She felt a hunger she couldn't explain. Her feet shuffled over a small pile of browned leaves, alerting them to her presence. Most of them jerked up, staring in her direction for a second before bolting in the opposite direction. There was one left. He was huge, antlers spanning as far wide as his body was long. The Alpha. He was the protector, the king of the herd, the biggest and the fiercest of a commonly gentle species. He was lowering his head, rattling his giant crown in her direction as a warning, his hoofs pawing at the ground._

 _She pushed her weight back onto her hind legs, and laid her body low, coiling up like a spring. She rumbled a growl, low in her chest, and pushed her nose down into the leaves, her eyes never leaving him. He huffed at her, daring her to come closer._

 _Her growl grew and bubbled, ripping from her throat in a loud snarl. She sprung, brushing over the grass, leaping with her limbs stretched out. She covered the few feet between them, pouncing high over his head and narrowly avoided being pierced by his antlers. She turned her body in mid-air, clamping her massive jaw around the flesh of his thick neck and ripping as she went. He stumbled, his front legs betraying him. She dug her claws into his back and bit him again, breaking the bone. She sunk her teeth into his skin over and over, until his beautiful antlers were lying on the forest floor, soaked in blood. She felt the blood in her mouth, warm on her tongue. She could hear the snap of muscle and bone as it gave way between her teeth. She stepped back, and howled deafeningly loud to the twilight skies. From all directions, wolves began to stream through trees. They circled her, howling in response. They kept on coming until there were nearly a hundred filling the clearing. They all looked to her, their leader, and then feasted upon the kill together._

Arya woke, reams of sweat rolling down her body. She untangled herself from the sheets and sat up, legs swung over the side of the bed. She struggled to calm her breathing. _That was weird,_ she thought. _I don't usually dream, especially not that vividly._

Gendry barged into the room then, making her jump. "Good, you're awake. I managed to get us two of the best steeds in Westeros, according to the Groom. Though, for the amount I paid for them they had better be."

She barely heard him speak, just sat staring at the wall across from her. She was beginning to forget the last time she hadn't been shaken to her roots about one thing or another. This massive change in direction that her story was taking was frightening her; making her feel like a child losing her family and running from the world again. She didn't know what the wolf dream meant but considering she could still feel the warmth of the stag's blood on her tongue, it couldn't be a good omen.

Gendry managed to pull Arya out of her thoughts, and persuaded her to go downstairs and eat. They ate in silence, then he pulled her up from the table by her hand and tugged her towards the door. "It's a lovely evening; perfect for a walk, especially on our first night back in Westeros."

They walked through the city and across the docks, watching boats coming in and out. Gulltown was the largest city in The Vale, around the same size as Braavos, and was home to House Grafton. She expected not to be recognised here, but was still on edge every time she saw someone watching her for longer than was necessary. Gendry could tell she was not herself yet again. He couldn't seem to stop her from slipping back into dark thoughts, no matter how much he tried. She needed a distraction.

They were just passing a particularly rowdy tavern when Gendry pulled her by the hand to the doorway. "Come on, let's get a drink."

"I'm not really in the mood…"

"It wasn't a suggestion." He said, holding his free hand up to stop her.

She trudged behind him to the bar while he ordered two very large flagons of ale. They retreated then to a small table tucked away behind a pillar. He slid one of the drinks to her, taking a long drag of his own.

"Drink." He ordered. So she drank.

And she drank some more.

And some more.

Until her flagon was gone. When she slammed it back on the table, Gendry was staring at her wide-eyed. "Alright. Another flagon over here!" he called to the nearest tavern maid.

"Gendry Waters, are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, her words already beginning to slur. "Because you can already have my cunt, you know." She winked at him.

She actually winked. Gendry sat in shock at her language, but mostly at her wink. "I will hold you to that." He replied, winking back.

It turned out, Arya was a very good drinker. She drank most of the men in the tavern under the table. She had drinking contests with many of the pig-headed ones and won, earning herself a tidy coin purse. Gendry stopped at three flagons, choosing to stay at least marginally clear-headed so they could find their way back to the inn. Arya, however, seemed to have forgotten all about her fears and insecurities and was thoroughly enjoying herself. Until a drunkard chose to grab her behind and she grasped him around the neck and threw him back onto the table, sending everyone's drinks to the floor. She was still throwing profanities at the man when Gendry dragged her by the waist into the street.

"What a dick! I've every right to slit him from navel to collarbone for that!" She carried on ranting at the top of her voice until they were half way back to their lodgings. They were just steering down a deserted alley he hoped was the right way when she pulled away from him and grabbed the lapels of his jerkin, pushing him back into the hard stone wall.

She crashed her lips to his clumsily, then retreated and tried again. His hands circled around her thin waist and pushed her away slightly. "What are you doing? We could be seen."

"So?" she replied, kissing him fervently again. He kissed her back long and hard to show how much he was willing, just not out in the open and in the middle of the city.

She stood on her tiptoes, barely able to reach his neck but managing to press white hot kisses down it, setting him on fire from his head to his feet. Gendry grabbed at her, pushing her shirt up and digging his fingers into the flesh at her hips. He picked her up by the waist gently, turning their bodies so she had her back to the wall. She wrapped her long legs around him, arching her back so her breasts pressed to his chest. Their lips met again in a kiss that was long and biting. He could taste the ale on her tongue mixed with the sweetness that was Arya.

He pulled away from her enough to gasp, "Not here. I'm about to rip off your clothes and I don't want dirty old perverts wanking over the sight of you naked."

She giggled, mumbled her okay and unfolded herself from around him. They stumbled through the streets hand in hand, stealing kisses on every corner, until they found the inn. They wandered in, as nonchalant as possible, passing the travellers that were still there eating and being merry, and hobbled up the stairs. As soon as they hit the first floor, they were entwined in each other again. Gendry's hand in her hair, Arya's deft fingers unfastening the buckles of his jerkin. They tumbled through the door to their room, barely letting it swing shut before he had her pressed against the other side of it, her back flat against the wood. He trapped her under his chest, grabbing the backs of her knees and drawing her legs up around him once again. He squeezed her arse cheeks in his hands, hearing her groan into his neck. She had his shirt undone and was pushing it away from his shoulders, letting him release her for a few moments to shrug it off completely. She wrapped her arms around his torso, braiding her fingers into his hair and claiming his bottom lip with a toothy bite. He pulled at the neck of her blouse, ripping the loose fabric until the tops of her bosom showed. He cupped her behind again, nuzzling his face into her cleavage and kissing all the skin he could find there. Her head fell backwards into the wood, and she clutched him to her, moaning louder than any wanton woman.

Gendry's fingers slid between their bodies, his mouth beginning to plant wet kisses over Arya's collar bone. He fumbled with the laces on her trousers, choosing instead to break the threads open in his haste. He pushed her knees down from his waist and knelt in front of her. He gazed fire at her, sliding the thin fabric down over her thighs to pool at her feet. He allowed her to step out of the bottoms then grasped her calf before she could plant her feet back on the floor. He kissed slowly from the arch of her ankle to the dimple on the side of her knee and hooked the leg over his shoulder. He ran his tongue the rest of the way up her leg to the centre of her. He could hear her breath quicken with his closeness, could see her chest heaving above him tantalisingly. He reached up and tore open her shirt the rest of the way, leaving her beautiful breasts open to the cold air. Her nipples were peaked, gloriously hard, and the skin over her chest glistened with sweat.

The air outside this time of year in the North was bitingly cold, yet Arya and Gendry's room was sparking a fire of its own. There was condensation on the window, the room was muggy with the hot bodies melding together inside. No matter where they were in the world, they brought their own heat.

Gendry had his mouth around her, his tongue probing the most intimate part of her. He had one hand on her behind, holding her balance, while the other was sliding steadily up the leg she had planted to the floor. He felt her shiver and her leg wobble. He stroked one finger over her wetness, teasing a moan from her, then stroked again. His used two fingers to rub at her bundle of nerves softly for a moment, then slid them down once more and entered her. He pushed his digits into her as far as they would go, relishing at the tightness gripping him. He paced out again, then back in, and repeated over and over. He pumped his fingers into her with increasing speed, eliciting moans and gasps from her so deep and guttural he could finish right in his pants if he were a lesser man. He licked at her nub using the tip of his tongue to swirl around and around in time with his fingers. He sucked her into his mouth, and curled his fingers inside her. Her breathing increased, her chest pushed towards the ceiling, but her moans died out in her mouth. She was deathly quiet. Gendry might have thought she wasn't enjoying herself if he couldn't feel her insides beginning to tighten ever harder around him. A series of short pants wracked her chest and her eyes squeezed shut. He could feel her release looming close, but he wasn't ready for her to finish just yet.

He pulled his fingers from her, leaving her on edge yet again. She huffed a growl out between her teeth, and pulled at his hair. He pulled his shirt over his head and pushed the remains of her blouse off her shoulders to drop on the floor. He felt unravelled, wild with lust. He said nothing, just stripped them both of the last of their clothing and melded his lips with hers again. He held her by the waist and spun her so her front pressed against the door. Her hands went up to brace herself. He pulled her behind towards him, bending her forward slightly, and kicked her feet apart.

He entered her without hesitation, making her squeak as she was filled completely. He was fevered, wanting, and impatient. He took no time to be gentle with her; he made no love this time. He fucked her to seven hells and back. Gendry slammed himself into her repeatedly, making her arse cheeks bounce with the force. She came hard, clenching down on him frantically; her legs wobbled and her knees gave way. He wrapped an arm under her, snaked around her waist, and held her up. He pounded her a few times more, coming to his own release quickly with a groan.

Gendry leaned forward, panting heavily, and kissed the back of Arya's shoulder. She pushed away from the door to slump back against him.

"Seven Hells?" He whispered in her ear, smiling. He expected her to slap him or storm away, but was shocked when she started laughing. She groaned, tired, and stretched out her body, pushing the back of her head into his shoulder. "I must have fucked you into next week; you haven't hit me yet."

Arya hummed in response, too tired to speak. Gendry wrapped his arms around her middle tightly and picked her up off the floor a little, so her toes just skimmed the wood. He carried her by the waist over to the bed where he laid them both down, her back to his front.

She was encased in his arms, engulfed by his heat, extremely satisfied and very, very tired. Arya couldn't remember ever feeling this safe and happy. Gendry was a remarkable man and so attentive, not just in the bed chambers, that she could easily feel herself slipping. She was falling for him; a dangerous thing to do so soon. She may have known him years ago, but they were both just children then. If things had turned out the way they were supposed to, and she and Gendry had never parted, she could easily imagine him being the husband she didn't think she wanted. But, life had got in the way and king's wars had taken their toll on both of them. Neither of them were the happy, carefree souls they should be.

Sleeping never came easily to Arya, even with great sex and Gendry warming her bed. She always managed to wake herself up a handful of times through the night. Tonight was no different. She woke violently before the sun had risen; sweat dripping down her arms and legs. She had had another strange dream.

 _She was with the huge pack of wolves again, this time stalking a group of five men on foot walking through the forest. They were wearing House Frey sigils. Arya felt her blood boil in her veins. Even in her dreams, in this ethereal body, she wanted revenge. Justice for her family._

 _She stepped slowly, head held high, making as much noise as she wanted. She meandered through the trees, her pack-mates following her. She was approaching the small party's flank, and she could see them beginning to get nervous. She could see their twitching, their furtive glances all around. She wanted them to know she was coming. The men slowed, listening to the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs that melted into a cacophony around them. Her paws carried her around them, reaching the front of their group and coming round to the back again. She continued, circling them over and over, her pace quickening. Her wolves dispersed as she walked, standing shoulder to shoulder to form a ring around the scared, pale little men. She did a full two circles, painfully slowly, before emerging from the treeline. They froze in fear; one pissed himself at the sight of her, judging from the smell. Her pack followed suit, closing in on the men. They didn't even try to run, they just stood and waited for her to come._

 _She took her time, enjoying the sound of their hearts racing. Only when their circle was tight, every muzzle touching black robes or pale skin, did she growl low and deep. She stood watching, a proud alpha, as her pack took the signal and pounced. They tore fabric and ripped flesh. The men were pulled limb from limb, reduced to nothing but meat. She planted her feet and arched her spine, throwing her head back. Her eerie howl filled the forest, echoing through the trees. Something snapped in her mind, a clarity that Arya herself didn't understand. She felt strangely connected, like she was being dragged along by something unknown._

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She bowed her head, her howl dying out, and watched as her pack mates feasted on their kill. They were the closest she had to family. Her actual family could be leagues away or dead. She felt it, the connection to her kin. She felt it the first time like an unbreakable chain connecting them. It was stronger now than it was when they had last been together. They had both grown, both moved through the world only to end up back where they came from. She felt it through their bond. She had wondered the last time, while they were both just pups, if her kin had felt the connection too. Now she knew, they would find each other. If it took until her last day, she would seek out her sister.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Just a quick note before the next chapter begins. HI! I'm back! And I'm sooo insanely sorry that it has taken me so long to get another chapter out! I've had all sorts going on since I started this as a one-shot. I had a second chapter all done and then before I had a chance to upload and get started on the next, I had a baby! Life is just starting to get back on track, which means more time for writing** **I will try as hard as I can to get chapters to you, but I now have a four year old child and a 6 week old baby to contend with so hopefully you can appreciate that real life comes first.**

 **On a different topic, to any readers who aren't too thrilled with the smutty parts of a story I apologise because after reading over my work again and editing slightly I realised that with this chapter included AGIAS has a fair amount of lemons bouncing around. I promise the whole story will not be like this, the next couple of chapters in particular are going to be more Arya figuring some stuff out on her own than Arya/Gendry sexy times, though to those readers that actually really like the mushy stuff, fear not the romance will continue!**

 **With that said, let the show go on…**

 **Noodle xx**

Arya drifted in and out of sleep until the sun started to peek through the window. She abandoned the bed and began to get ready for the day, itching to set out on the road. Her dream didn't scare her this time, it made her determined. Whatever her mind was trying to tell her, it pleased her to see Frey men being slaughtered so easily.

When Gendry woke he was greeted by a _very_ pleasant sight. Arya was stood at the foot of the bed facing away from him, in nothing but a skin-tight pair of riding trousers. He watched her bend at the waist, gathering her blouse from the chair in front of her, and blew out a long breath through his lips. She turned suddenly allowing him the view of her bare chest.

"Are you okay?" she asked, he must have been staring for too long because he looked up to find her watching him like he had grown a second head.

He blew out another breath, "I'm as fine as your arse in those trousers." Gendry hadn't meant to say it, but his bluntness caused her to laugh loudly. He smiled back, watching her so carefree and happy for once. "You seem in better spirits today."

"I had a good night." She replied, still smiling.

Arya and Gendry finished dressing quickly (mainly so Gendry didn't get distracted), gathered up some foods supplies, and collected their horses from the stable. They were on the move before the sun had fully reached the sky.

They had decided it was best to stay to the coast until they hit Wickendon, a small town on the northern edge of the Bay of Crabs. From there, they would travel north-west for a couple of days until they reached the Crossroads Inn.

"We need to stay as far from the Eyrie as possible, I don't want to risk Littlefinger finding out I'm alive just yet." Arya said; she wanted them to get to Winterfell with as little trouble as possible. She wouldn't be any help to her family dead.

By travelling fairly light, they moved quickly across the coast, only stopping to rest themselves and the horses. They didn't come across many people traveling off-road, but when they did they were careful to keep their heads down. Arya and Gendry reached Wickendon in a little under a week and only stayed for one night, to give themselves a good meal and a decent nights sleep. They were on their way again by sun-up the next morning.

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It took them a few short days to reach the Crossroads Inn, and Arya was glad for the chance to have a bath. Winter may be coming, but the South's sweltering heat was still ruling over the midlands. She and Gendry were wet with sweat by the time they settled into a huge brass tub, her back resting against his chest and her behind wedged between his legs. She had come to realise just how insatiable Gendry really was. She could scarcely afford to bend over in front of him for fear of being mounted then and there. They had spent almost every evening on the road in each other's arms - part of the reason they were so in need of a bath. Even now, she could feel his hands wandering over her back, sinking a little too low below the water, as he 'washed' her. His palms drifted from the nape of her neck to the small of her back and over her ribs and hips.

Gendry couldn't get enough of her. His hands had a mind of their own, they couldn't be separated from her luscious flesh, they only wanted to touch her. He pushed his arms around her ribs to her front and over her belly. He felt the muscles there tense under his touch, and saw the little hairs on her arms spike up. She was waiting, expecting his hand to dip low between her legs. He could even see her knees twitch like they wanted to be spread wide open for him. It made his cock spring to life, prodding her in her behind. A small groan slipped from her lips at the feel of him, huge and ready.

"Stand." he grunted in her ear, his dominance clear in his voice. No matter how much she bossed him around or stood independently in the day-to-day, he was in control in the bedroom - or the bath. She pushed herself up gracefully, and he followed. He picked up the small block of soap on his way up and rubbed it between his hands to form a lather.

"Turn." he said and she turned steadily to face him, glancing up into his eyes. He dropped the block into the water and placed his soapy hands on her, gliding them over her shoulders and arms. He rubbed the soap into her and moved on to her chest. His hands grasped her around the neck briefly, and spread out to the top of her breasts. He slowed then, running his palms down and over her ample bosom. He heard her breath hitch slightly as his fingers drifted past her nipples, so he did it again, and her eyes drifted shut. The third time, he grasped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs going to tweak her nipples into peaks. He drifted lower, rubbing his fingertips into the soft flesh of her stomach. It was when his hands drifted to rest on her hips that he stopped. Her eyes snapped open, searching out his own. He turned her by her hips until she faced forward again, and used one hand to sweep her wet hair over her shoulder. He rubbed his hands together again, lathering up whatever soap there was left, then began cleaning her again, sliding his fingers over her back and shoulders. He pressed his thumbs firmly into the back of her shoulders and the top of her spine, rubbing in circles to release some of the tension she was holding in her neck. She moaned lightly, her head flopping forward. He carried on, rubbing down her back and over her pert arse cheeks. He grabbed one in each hand and gave them a little squeeze, then brushed his fingertips across the tops of her thighs. He halted his wandering hands when he felt her intake of breath. She wanted him, he could tell. He was thoroughly enjoying this; teasing the teaser.

"I need more soap, would you be so kind-?" he said sweetly to her, gesturing to the bottom of the tub in front of her where the block had drifted in the water. She twitched her head slightly, as if she wanted to look at him over her shoulder but thought against it. He knew what she thinking; just as she knew what he wanted.

Arya knew he wanted her bent over, so she gave him exactly that. She separated her feet slightly and bent slowly straight down, her arse still in the air. She could feel him move behind her so she lingered in her 'search' for the soap. She felt him lean back, and heard the gust of air leave his mouth as he watched her, glistening wet and on show for him. She taunted him a little, grasping the soap and running it up the inside of her legs. She rubbed in the foam with the other hand, her fingers roaming around her calves and over her knees. She made a small lather in her hands and passed the soap back into Gendry's hand. It took him a minute to grab it, but when he did she brought her hands back to her thighs along with his attention. She felt his spare hand brush over her behind and she slapped it away gently. She heard the water slosh slightly and him grunt as he pushed himself up on to the side of the bath.

Gendry had a fantastic view of her teasing little body where he sat. He watched her trail her delicate fingers up the inside of her thighs, rubbing the soap in to her skin. _She better not do what I think she's going to do,_ he thought. _I won't be able to control myself if she starts stroking that sopping little cunt of hers._ Her fingers ran over the apex of her thighs once, then twice, before she dipped one digit between her folds. He watched as it disappeared completely, thrust up inside of her. He almost unravelled at the sight. He was doubly shaken, his body going hot and cold with pure lust, when she pulled her finger back out and added a second, pushing inside herself again. She jerked her hand, thrusting again and again. Gendry had to grip the side of the bath to stop himself from grabbing her and burying his cock in that sweet pussy. He watched her, his eyes trained on the fingers that were slipping in and out of her with fervour now. He saw her other arm move towards her clit and realised she was no longer just playing his game, giving him a show. She had lost herself in the pleasure. She was rubbing herself in time with the thrust of her fingers. He heard her gasps, every one fuelling his fire. Her breathing sped up, pants slipping through her lips just as frequently as her fingers were pumping between her slender legs. He knew she was near; he had done this to her enough times to notice that the trembling in her thighs and the pink flush covering her skin meant she was climbing to her limit, almost at the point of no return. Her breath stopped, her whole body went as rigid as a statue, yet her fingers carried her on and on. She hit her climax with a shuddering moan, her legs shook so much they buckled beneath her and she dropped down to the water.

He had just enough blood still at his brain to slide back in to the tub. He reached forward and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her still-twitching body. "Seven hells." he whispered next to her ear. She chuckled softly and began to sink into him. Gendry willed his erection to lessen, he knew with a climax like that she would be exhausted and he didn't want to push her past her limits tonight. She was warm, clean and happy. He wanted to tuck her up in to her toasty bed and lay down beside her, watching her drop off into a restful sleep for once. He had noticed since they left Braavos that her sleeping patterns had turned short and stuttering. She was up multiple times in the night, and tossed and turned for a good while before she could settle again. With all the travelling they were doing during the day, she seemed to always be tired. She would begin to nod off in the saddle, and he would be forced to nudge her awake again until she was happy enough with their days' ride to camp for the night. Now they had a chance to sleep in a fairly decent bed he wanted to make sure she would sleep well and long.

Arya had slipped down, her head nearly resting on his lap, and was beginning to drift to sleep so Gendry thought this would be a good time to take her to bed. He stood gently, lifting her into his arms and her eyes fluttered open just as he stepped from the tub to look at him questioningly. He put her on her feet then turned and gathered a towel from near the bath. He wrapped up her from head to toe until she was a petite bundled package and carried her to their bed, slipping her beneath the blankets like a child and kissing her forehead to lull her back to sleep. It was when her eyes had drifted closed again and her breathing had deepened that he whispered, "I love you, Arry." before he could help himself.

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It was a sudden downpour of steaming rain that woke Gendry in the very early hours of the next morning. It pelted the small window of their room. Gendry stared through the glass, the rain beating a rhythm that calmed him to his core. He had always liked the rain, right from being a small boy living in Kings Landing. It was extremely rare in the south so whenever the heavens did open it fascinated him while all the other summer children ran for cover.

Gendry pulled on a thin layer of clothes and crept out of the room, careful not to wake Arya from the most restful sleep she had had in days. When he swung open the heavy wooden door to the inn, a gust of rain swept in, splattering the mud on his boots. He stepped out in to it, savouring the icy droplets on his face as the muggy heat of the day's dawn engulfed him. He stood under the downpour, welcoming it and letting it soak his clothes through to the skin.

He trampled through the mud to an open space behind the building where a wooden cart was stood, its driver leading an old withered horse to a small barn that leaned against the side wall of the inn. He was just turning back to head inside when the stout man emerged from the barn, pushing the gate shut behind him.

 _It can't be…_ Gendry watched as the man began pulling crates and boxes from the back of the wagon, heaving them through the rain to an open door that led to the inn's kitchen. He approached gently, trying to make as little noise as he could in the wet dirt, in case his assumptions were wrong. When the man returned to his wagon a second time Gendry got a good look at his face. "Hot Pie." He murmured, scarcely able to believe that the fat little boy he once knew had stayed at the Crossroads Inn all this time. Gendry smiled, wandered over to the wagon and pulled a large box down into his arms.

"Hey, what are you..?" Hot Pie started to admonish him, until his eyes flickered up from the crate into Gendry's face, and widened. "Gendry!"

His smile spread from ear to ear, and he dropped the crate he was carrying to clap Gendry on his shoulder firmly. "I never thought I would see you again! How are you?"

"I'm good. I can't believe you're still here." Gendry replied, looking up to the brown stone building.

"I own it now." Hot Pie straightened to his full height, just a head shorter than himself. "I married the old man's daughter and when he died a year ago he left it to us. She's lovely, Clarisse her name is." His eyes glistened as he spoke of his wife, clearly a man besotted. "Are you staying?"

Gendry nodded, "We got here last night. On our way North."

"We?" Hot Pie looked hopefully. Gendry suddenly thought, should he be telling people that Arya was back in Westeros? He doubted if anybody would care that the bastard son of a dead king was roaming the Riverlands again, but a lost Lady of the North? She could be hunted if people found out she was here, either for money or just to stop her from reaching any family she had left. The Riverlands were her mother's home but that didn't mean that Lannister men weren't lurking in every town from Storm's End to Castle Black.

"Hot Pie!" He followed Hot Pie's gaze over his shoulder to see Arya striding up to them, a smile gracing her face. She swept past him and wrapped their old friend in a bone-crushing hug.

"Arry." His face was a picture, slack-jawed and slightly pink as Arya pulled away still beaming at him. He scanned her up and down once. "You certainly can't pass for a boy anymore." he muttered. Gendry narrowed his eyes at the man, coughing lightly as his friend's eyes roamed up and down Arya's womanly figure once more.

"I mean… you've grown up… we all have… it's just more noticeable on you…because you're a girl….woman!" Hot Pie stammered, glancing back and forth between Gendry's glare and Arya's knowing smile. "You look…. Healthy." He finished.

"You look taller." She replied. "Though no less fat!" She prodded a finger at his rotund belly.

"Oi!" he grumbled, swatting away her hand but still grinning from ear to ear.

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Gendry and Arya rested their tired horses for the day, choosing to catch up on some sleep themselves. When evening rolled around, they trudged down to the crowded inn for a warm meal and some ale. Clarisse, Hot Pie's wife, was a pretty young woman. Petite with yellow hair, she seemed an unlikely match for him but the look of love shone from her face every time she set eyes on her husband. Clarisse was also extremely chatty. She peppered Arya and Gendry with questions, in between filling customers' mugs, about anything and everything that seemed to pop into her head. She also plied them with the latest rumours from all over Westeros which was only partly annoying.

Gendry was on his second bowl of soup when a heavily cloaked man swung open the door to the inn and made his way to the table nearest to them. He was closely followed by two others, all dressed for the road.

"Evening Geralt, how's the forest treating you boys lately?" Clarisse addressed the table as she plonked three mugs down and filled each one to the brim.

Geralt was the eldest man of the group, his beard silver and the hair on his head thinning. The other men were much younger and had similar enough features to suggest they were his sons.

"Not great Clarisse, if I'm honest." He rasped. "Somethin's scarin' the deer away. Tracks say it could be wolves. Robin swears he saw one the other day, only it was huge as a horse." Geralt looked to the young man on his left sceptically. Arya froze with her spoon half way to her mouth, her eyes wide, and twitched her head to the side slightly.

"It was, I'm not makin' it up!" Robin replied.

"I heard that bodies have been found in the woods near The Trident, all torn to pieces." The other man said, taking a large gulp from his mug. "Heard it from an old man we passed on the road when we was coming back from Seagard. He said that some sort of monster was attackin' anyone who went wanderin' through the trees at night."

Arya had paled slightly, her eyes flickering from her bowl in front of her to the door. She slowly lowered her spoon, still listening intently to the men behind her even though they were now telling Clarisse all the gossip they had heard while travelling. She began pushing her chair backwards, muttering an excuse under her breath and headed to the stairs up to the rooms. Gendry watched her go, the skin between his eyebrows puckered in confusion.

Arya hurriedly slammed the door to their room shut behind her and started pacing back and forth over the wooden floor. Her dreams. The men in her dreams had been ripped to shreds; reduced to bones and bloody rags. How was that possible? Was she having some kind of premonition? The fact that she was dreaming about lacerating Frey men with her teeth made her feel equal amounts of concern and exhilaration. Arya was no fool; she could guess who it was that was slaughtering her enemies so savagely.

Nymeria.

She had felt a special bond with her Direwolf companion right from the day her father and brothers had brought the pups back from the woods. However, she had never expected to be dreaming through the eyes of her sister wolf. This otherworldly link between her and Nymeria shouldn't be possible, but now that it was Arya was determined. She needed to find her direwolf. It was difficult to believe that Nymeria had remained in the Riverlands, so close to where they had parted as nothing but babes. Arya wondered if, just like Hot Pie, she had found some reason to stick around.

The sun had only just peeked over the horizon the next day when Arya crept from the back entrance of the inn, Needle strapped to one hip and her saddle bags swung over her shoulder. She liberated her horse from the stables and mounted, digging her heels into the mare's flank and holding on tight as she jettisoned forwards. They fled down the mud road as fast as the horse could manage, kicking up dirt as they went. Leaving Gendry behind had been a difficult decision to make but Arya would be able to move a lot quicker by herself, even through the thick undergrowth of the forest where she would have to travel on foot. She only hoped he would understand that this was a journey she needed to take alone; to regain a little bit of Arya Stark. She was tired of trying to be No One.

She continued on the Kingsroad until midday, and then branched off into the dense trees that lined the side of the road. She jumped down from her horse, needing to trample along by foot through the woods for a while until they parted suddenly on to the edge of a huge swell of water as wide as Kings Landing, from the Red Keep to Fleabottom.

Arya sighed, stepping down to the lake that parting in to three forks. "The Trident." She glanced towards the path of water nearest to her; the Green Fork. If she followed it she would end up at The Twins. Arya's steely glare narrowed as if she was shooting daggers through Walder Frey himself.

"I'm so close, Nymeria." She said to the wind. "A days ride if I tire out the mare, three at most if I take my time. I could avenge them. I could carve out the throat of every Frey inside those walls and get justice for my family." Arya turned her head, trying to stem the thoughts that boiled inside her. She was trying not to get noticed, and killing an entire house was sure to attract attention.

Arya dropped down to her behind, pulled off her boots and sunk her feet into the cool water, the hems of her trousers soaking through. She sat for a while, staring out across the gleaming surface of The Trident, the mid afternoon sun reflected off its surface and the breeze rippled the water, making the mirrored trees shudder as if they too could feel winter approaching. Arya was staring, lost in her own thoughts, not noticing when the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. She shivered, though the nip in the air barely touched her. Her eyes began to blur and she blinked, shaking her head slightly. A cold pain pierced through her skull, and her gaze started to cloud at the edges, like a curtain was being pulled over her vision. Arya's breath hitched, panic settling through her.

"What….?" She breathed, rubbing her eyes with her fist hoping to clear away some of the haze, but it just kept creeping in. Soon, she could barely see the water that whispered around her ankles. She hopped up on to the shore, plunging her hands into the clear pool and splashing it in her face, massaging some over her eyelids. She had been blind before, but this was something else entirely. There was no dark, and no shadows permanently just beyond her reach. Her eyes were filled with a blank white, more dense that the thickest fog she had ever seen. "What is this?"

Arya's hands stuttered over the ground, pushing her body to stand upright. She began to turn, one way then the other, trying to remember where she left her horse and where the forest began. Just as the hysteria washed through her, the white curtain began to fade. The centre of the fog was parting, an image pushing its way through. Her body began to burn, her limbs twitched. She froze, her toes buried in the long grass. The image was getting clearer and clearer, until the fog had almost dissipated.

She saw herself.

A figure stood exactly where she was, arms out from her sides and legs planted far apart. She saw the soggy bottoms of her trousers, and the laces of her tunic hung down near her waist. She saw her dark hair curling at the ends, now grown to past her shoulder blades. She saw her own eyes, once as dark as her hair but now an eerie, pale white. She was moving.

No, that couldn't be possible. But, yes, those were her feet that brushed through swathes of crisp green. Those were her arms that had settled to hang loosely by her hips. That was her body that was moving, heading south of its own accord, but she couldn't feel it. She didn't feel the grass under her soles, or the swish of her thighs gliding past each other as she walked steadily towards a thin river that opened out into the great expanse that was The Trident. She didn't even feel it as her body scaled a large rock on one side of the river, the skin on the tips of her toes scraping on the jagged surface.

However, Arya did notice the ruffling of her hair when she shifted, heading towards her body. It was all very confusing. Arya watched, powerless, as whatever she had become glided towards the opposite side of the river to where her body stood, staring blindly at nothing. She had heard of outer body experiences, but this was unimaginable. She could feel her spirit moving, watching the shell of herself across the water as she stalked low to the floor. She could hear the clicking of claws with every step her spirit took. All her senses were heightened; the rustle and creak of the forest echoed through her head, the sun burned her irises and she could smell the lavender soap from her body as if she had the bar under her nose. She could feel the shifting of dirt beneath her as she reached the river, staring at the carapace across the water.

Arya's body shuddered. Not just the body she was watching so intently, but her soul as well. Her vision flickered, the hair on her neck prickling once again. The image behind her eyes shifted back and forth between herself and a blur of ashen fur and long, strong limbs.

The eyes. They were not hers, but they could have been. They were as dark as night, the pupil unnoticeable.

Arya gasped, breathing erratically as though emerging from the depths of the lake. She was herself again, her own limbs hanging as gangly as they ever had been. A sheen of sweat graced her brow and her head pounded.

 _Sister._

The word echoed through her thoughts gently, like a wash of cool rain. It was not a harsh demand that pushed through her senses, invading her mind completely like she imaged the link would be. It was a whisper so fragile and soft that it could have come from her own mouth.

 _Nymeria._

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She had grown. That was Nymeria's first thought. Her sister had grown so beautifully into a strong and courageous woman. She could feel it. The link between then was strengthening the closer they were to one another. She had dreamt of this day for years. She wished she could weep and scream and laugh all at the same time.

Nymeria tipped back her head to the sky and let out an almighty howl that shook the trees around, their leaves still trembling even as her cry faded. When she looked back, Arya was staring at her as if she were a ghost.

Slowly, Nymeria padded across stones just below the water's surface until she reached her kin. Just as her paws hit solid ground, Arya broke free from her stupor. Her split in two with the most mesmerizing smile the wolf had ever seen. She bounded the last few paces, her eyes never breaking contact with her sister. The cracks in her heart that had lingered since the day Arya had sent her away finally healed when she was wrapped in a crushing embrace. This was what she had been waiting for. She had stayed put for all this time in the hope that they would meet again, and now her wish was finally coming true. Though they may have parted as nought but babes, their bond had never diminished.

 _Love._ Arya's whisper resounded in her mind.

Nymeria was home.

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Gendry was steaming. He was fuming. Well, actually he was worried out of his mind. But he might as well have been fuming because being worried made him feel angry. Anger was easier to deal with than the thought that Arya had run away from him as fast as should the second they reached the Kingsroad. She had left him a note. Not a letter; a fucking _note_.

 **Gendry,**

 **I will meet you at the Northern Border in two weeks' time. Don't hate me, there is something I must do and I must do it alone. You will understand in two weeks.**

 **Arya.**

That was it. That was all she had written.

He could never hate her, but right now he was having a hard time liking her. Though without any other option, he started to pack up his things and made his way down to the tavern to bid farewell to Hot Pie.

"You're leaving already?" Hot Pie said, his face downcast. "You only just got here."

Gendry felt guilty. Just more fuel to add to the tongue-lashing he would be giving Arya in two weeks. Though after two weeks, first he would yell then he would be giving her a different kind of tongue-lashing.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm sorry it's just Arya needed to go somewhere pretty urgently and she asked me to meet her further along the road so I had best get going or she will yell at me for being late." He replied, trying his best to reassure his friend with a forced smile and an awkward chuckle.

Hot Pie didn't buy it. If anything, his face slipped even further into a morose expression.

"Don't worry, we will see each other again my friend." Gendry clapped his portly friend on the shoulder hard, making him buckle sideways slightly.

Hot Pie mustered up a parting smile, and Gendry gathered his horse and set off on his journey, still sullen and moody.

Two weeks later, in the dead of night, Gendry waited by the waystone that marked the border between the Riverlands and The North. He had arrived two days ago and had no choice but to wait for Arya. He had considered riding ahead, just to spite her, but decided against it when he realised he had never been this far North, and he had no knowledge of what the rest of the journey held. As a child, Gendry had heard from the mad old spinster who ran the orphanage in Fleabottom that Northerners were wild creatures that invited wolves into their homes and each man could ravage a wild boar before it was even cooked. They were 'more wildling than westerosi' she had said. He was in no doubt that Arya was wilder than any southern man or woman he had ever met, and she was a lady! Truth be told, he was a little apprehensive about travelling so far into unfamiliar territory. If he was really honest with himself, he would have used the word petrified.

Gendry was lost in his own thoughts. So much so that he hadn't noticed two sets of midnight dark eyes glaring out at him from between the dense forest lining to his left. If he was paying attention, he would have heard the light crunch of a leaf under the sole of a boot. What he did notice, was the _drip drip drip_ of blood running down a Needle.


End file.
